


Burn It Down

by Aini_NuFire



Series: Feathers and Flames [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 11, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels are Dicks, BAMF Winchesters (Supernatural), Castiel Angst, Castiel deserves happiness, Dean is a Good Friend, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Helpful Crowley, Humor, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy, Sam Is a Good Friend, Tortured Castiel, proud Uncle Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-01 05:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10915671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aini_NuFire/pseuds/Aini_NuFire
Summary: Things between Cas and Ryn become complicated, and when Heaven finds out, the Winchesters begin the fight of their lives to protect the family they’ve grown to love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, there is going to be major heartache, major feels, and major fluff in this fic. You have been warned.
> 
> Disclaimer: The boys aren't mine. HUGE thank you to Miyth and 29Pieces for supporting this story, talking things out, and generally just helping ignite and sharing my own excitement for it. :)

 

"And that is how you replace the serpentine belt," Dean said, straightening from under the hood of the Continental. He grabbed a rag off the tool cart to wipe his hands.

Cas was studying the engine compartment carefully. "Also known as the drive belt?" he checked.

Dean beamed. "Exactly." At this rate, he'd turn Cas into a grease monkey in no time. The angel's overly analytical brain could be annoying sometimes, but it served Cas rather well when it came to gears and stuff. "That one should be good for 50,000 miles."

He tossed the rag back and pushed the hood down with a thud and click. It'd only been two weeks since they'd saved the world and locked the Darkness away forever, and they'd all taken some well-earned R&R. Which for Dean included having Cas's wrecked car towed to the bunker where he could work on fixing it up. And he'd been teaching the angel how to maintain it. Sure, Dean may have thought the Continental Mark V was a piece of crap, but Cas seemed to love that car, so Dean would help him keep it in good shape.

Cas walked over to the Henley where he'd draped his trench coat and suit jacket, even though he hadn't actually gotten his hands dirty this time around.

"Dean," he said seriously. "Thank you for salvaging the car. I know I told you I didn't care about it, but I am grateful."

Dean shrugged the sentiment off in discomfort. "That's what friends do."

He hadn't taken it to heart when Cas had said that. Ryn had been sick and dying at the time, and Dean taking the time to make sure the Continental wasn't sent to the scrap heap probably had seemed trivial and a touch callous. But Dean had stolidly maintained that once Ryn was better—because they _would_ save her—that Cas would then want his car.

Dean was happy to have been right—on both counts.

Cas slipped his coat back on and swept his gaze over the sharp angles of the car's surface, dented in places from when the Darkness had thrashed it against a bridge. "When will it be finished?" he asked.

Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling at how quickly gratitude could become impatience. "What's the hurry? What, you tired of hanging in the garage with me?" He never would have thought cars were something he and _Cas_ could bond over, and he'd actually been enjoying it more than he thought he would.

"No, of course not," Cas said hurriedly. "It's just that Ryn has been away from her cabin for a while now, and all her things are there."

Dean's hands stilled over the tools he'd been straightening. _Oh_. He couldn't deny he was feeling slightly confused; he thought things had been going well with the four of them in the bunker. But maybe Ryn had decided it was too crowded after all. Maybe the two of them just wanted some alone time, and they'd be back later.

"Um, Dean?" Cas asked hesitantly. "It is still okay for Ryn to move into the bunker?"

Dean blinked, and turned around with a perplexed frown. Wait, what? Realization finally hit, and he could have kicked himself. "You mean you and Ryn are gonna go back to her place to bring some of her stuff back to the bunker?" he clarified.

Cas's brows knitted together. "Yes. What did you think I meant?"

Dean shook his head, feeling like an idiot. "Nothin'. The car runs fine now. The rest of the repairs are mostly cosmetic anyway. They can wait until you get back."

Cas gazed at him uncertainly for a moment longer before relaxing. "Thank you."

"No problem." Sheesh, of course Ryn wanted to get some of her stuff. She was probably tired of borrowing clothes any time she happened to burst into a flaming bird.

Cas gave him another one of those hesitant smiles. "Ryn used to translate ancient texts for monks in medieval England," he said. "She could become a Woman of Letters here."

Dean had to take a moment to follow that jump in the conversation. Seriously, if Cas drove the way he switched mental gears, that Continental was gonna need a ton of maintenance. "Okay, cool." They had a bunch of lore in languages they couldn't read, though usually they just asked Cas for help with that.

Dean paused, eyeing the angel intently and noting the way he was shifting his weight almost nervously. Dean could have sighed. "You know that neither Ryn or you have to earn your keep or anything, right? This is your home as much as it is me and Sam's."

Cas fidgeted. "Yes, I know. I just…" He huffed out what seemed to be frustration. "It's good to have a purpose."

Dean nodded in understanding. Their whole lives had been about the mission, whether it was hunting the demon that killed their mom, or stopping the Apocalypse, or saving the other from their latest boneheaded mistake. Even now, with things settling down and being okay, Dean knew he and Sam would get back to hunting. That was just their lives. The family business. And he figured Cas and Ryn would join them sometimes.

"Well, whether you two become full-time book worms or come on hunts with us, just know that it's been nice having you around. Both of you. I know Sam feels the same."

Cas's lips tugged upward with that shy smile again. It was getting easier to draw it out these days, which Dean was glad for.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas said sincerely.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled. How was he getting roped into so many chick-flick moments lately? "Go find your girlfriend."

Dean turned back to the Continental and double-checked all the wires and connections, just to make sure Cas wouldn't have any problems on the road. The angel was a quick study, but Dean didn't want them having to worry about anything.

Once he was satisfied, he rinsed his hands at the work sink and put everything away before heading inside. He found Sam in the library, watching something on his laptop that looked suspiciously like Downtown Abbey. The worst part was Dean couldn't even blame it on them having a female in the bunker.

"Dude, really?" he said, dropping into the seat across from his brother.

Sam jerked almost guiltily, and quickly closed the laptop. "Uh, hey."

"So Cas and Ryn are gonna take off for a couple days," Dean said, foregoing any snarky remarks he could have made, for the moment. "Get some things from her place to bring back here."

"Oh. Okay." Sam quirked a brow. "Like what?"

Dean snorted. "Change of clothes would be good," he muttered.

Sam's cheeks pinked slightly. "Oh, right. Yeah."

Dean smirked in amusement. Sometimes it was easy to forget that not all supernatural beings went around in the same get-up for years on end.

"So if they're gonna be busy doing that," Dean went on. "I figure we can get back to looking for cases."

Sam leaned back in his chair, cocking his head thoughtfully. "Yeah, sure. I've been starting to get a little bored."

"Obviously," Dean remarked dryly, flicking a pointed look at the laptop.

His brother scowled. "Dude, don't judge. It's a hit series."

"Whatever you say, Samantha."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

And with that, they both reached for their respective laptops to start searching for their next hunt.

* * *

Ryn sat on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands in her lap. She didn't know what to do. Of all the ways she'd expected her life to go, this was not one of them. Not even close. She'd teamed up with a couple of hunters, bound herself to an angel, fought against a primordial evil that almost devoured the world, and now…now she didn't even know what to make of things.

She dropped her head into her hands and clutched at her hair. How had it all gotten so complicated?

The door squeaked open and Ryn jolted upright as Castiel came in. He always moved so soundlessly in the halls, she hadn't heard him approaching.

"Dean has finished fixing the car," he informed her. "So we can finally make it back to your cabin to get your things." He canted a rueful look at her. "I'm sorry for all the detours previously. I promise not to make any this time."

Ryn closed her eyes under a wave of remorse. She was the one about to throw a massive detour at him.

"Ryn, what's wrong?"

She couldn't bear the concern in his voice, and was afraid to open her eyes and see it on his face.

"I'm pregnant."

Silence greeted her announcement, and she finally forced herself to look. Castiel was staring at her blankly.

"Cas?"

His expression remained completely uncomprehending. "I don't understand."

Ryn took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm _pregnant_. With a child. With _our_ child."

She'd known that morning that something was different, something was off. The thrum she'd been feeling for the past few days, she'd attributed to simply being _happy_ and content. But that thrum had blossomed into a distinct note, one completely different from the chord of her own inner fire. It had similarities…but also a flute-like lilt as rich and ethereal as the angel's grace she would instantly recognize among a cacophony of other auroras.

And that's when she'd known beyond a shadow of doubt what was somehow growing inside her.

Ryn watched the lines of Castiel's face furrow as he continued to parse her words out, and then as they slackened in shock. "N-no. No, that's impossible."

She let out a humorless snort. "Believe me, I'm just as shocked."

Castiel's expression began to shift through a myriad of emotions that Ryn couldn't hope to keep up with. He pivoted on his heel one direction, then the other, as though he couldn't decide where to go.

"Alright," he said firmly. "How do we get rid of it?"

Ryn's brows rose in dismay. "Get rid of it?"

"Yes. Is there…surely there must be something. Something in the Men of Letters archives." He turned toward the door.

"I'm not getting rid of it," she called after him, flabbergasted that he would even jump to that.

He whirled back around. "You- you can't think of keeping it. It's an abomination!"

Her heart clenched at the derogatory term and growing look of horror on his face. "It is not."

Castiel's eyes widened further. "Is it influencing you? That's what it's doing, isn't it? A survival mechanism, enslaving the mother." He turned and swept out of the room.

"Cas, wait!" Ryn hurried after him, barreling into the library on the coattails of his crackling storm. Sam and Dean were sitting at two study tables with their computers, but had looked up in surprise and confusion at their explosive entrance.

"Uh, what's going on?" Sam asked hesitantly, twisting sideways in his seat to look at them.

Castiel pulled up short, ignoring the question and jerking his gaze around the bookshelves as though he wasn't sure where to start.

Ryn's throat tightened; she really didn't want to have this out in front of everyone. But the Winchesters were glancing between her and Cas in concern and some nervousness, and there was no putting this cat back in the bag.

"I'm pregnant," she ground out for the third time. As if not saying it out loud could make it any less real than it already was.

The brothers had much the same reaction as Castiel: brows shooting upward and mouths moving soundlessly.

"I'm sorry, what?" Dean stammered, before indignation quickly overtook his stupefaction. "With whose baby?"

Ryn shot him a scathing look and gestured sharply at Castiel.

And then Dean was looking flummoxed again. "Wait, you and Cas…? You two actually…?"

"That is how babies are conceived," Castiel spat, tone laced with venom.

Ryn folded her arms across her stomach defensively. She'd known he would likely be upset. They hadn't planned this, hadn't even _discussed_ it. But she hadn't expected such…vitriol.

Dean sputtered in disbelief. "Didn't you use protection?"

"Yes," Castiel growled at the hunter, then turned back to Ryn, his expression suddenly wrecked with devastation. "I don't understand how this happened."

Sam and Dean turned questioning looks on her as well, and Ryn winced under their borderline judgmental gazes. It wasn't like it was _her_ fault. "Those things aren't always one-hundred percent foolproof," she pointed out. "Look, Cas, I'm sorry. I didn't ask for this. But it's what's happened."

Castiel shook his head and turned away. "We never should have…I should have known better. What we did…it's a horrible sin." He looked back at them all. "The spawn needs to be terminated."

Ryn stiffened again. "I'm not killing _our_ baby!"

"Whoa, whoa," Dean jumped in, both him and Sam rising from their seats. "Let's back up a second."

"Nephilim are forbidden by the oldest laws in Heaven," Castiel insisted. "They grow into their power and then…" He ground his teeth in clear frustration.

"And then what?" Sam asked.

"Entire worlds die."

Ryn hugged herself tighter. She didn't care about Heaven's _laws_. Heaven was a cold, cruel place full of calculating torture and oppression. According to Heaven, she herself was just another abomination. According to them, Castiel was an aberration, an angel to be scorned, when the truth was he was the most selfless and devout one of them all.

"Um, okay," Sam said tentatively, eyeing Castiel's still tense posture. "But a nephilim is a child of an angel and a human, and Ryn isn't human."

"No, she's the Alpha phoenix, which means this thing will grow up to be something even more powerful, even more deadly!"

"Cas, calm down," Dean interjected.

Castiel whirled on him. "I will not calm down! Don't you understand what I've done? This doesn't even come close to all the atrocities I've committed in the past. I've broken one of Heaven's most sacred commands, created an abomination—"

"Stop calling it that!" Ryn exploded, silencing the room.

All three of them startled, and Sam and Dean gave her contrite looks, while Castiel's mouth pressed into a tight line.

Ryn gave him a pleading look. "Cas, please."

His blue irises were roiling tempests as he gazed back at her. And then he wrenched away and stormed out of the library. She heard his echoing footsteps clomp up the stairs, and the grating sound of the front door followed a moment later. She flinched as it slammed shut, the reverberations of anger resounding through the bunker.

The awkward tension in the room was palpable, and Ryn glanced at Sam and Dean, who were exchanging unreadable looks with each other. She suddenly wanted to be anywhere else.

Dean cleared his throat. "Just, uh, give him some time to cool off."

"I'm sorry," she said hoarsely. "I didn't mean to ruin things."

And why did it have to ruin everything? This should have been something _happy_. A miracle. Not a curse. It had been so long since she'd had a child… Despite what had happened to Edan, Ryn had loved him. And she hadn't thought she'd get such a chance again.

"So, this baby," Sam spoke up. "It's essentially half phoenix, half angel? What does that mean?"

She shrugged one shoulder helplessly. "I don't know. It's not like this has ever happened before."

Dean let out a small snort. "Yeah, you guys are pretty much trying to break the mold in everything, huh?" He ran a hand over his hair. "Okay, so, what's the timeline we're looking at here? Nine months?"

"I don't know."

"Is this thing gonna spontaneous burst into flames after it's born? _Before_ it's born?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know anything?" Dean asked sharply, but then gave himself a rough shake and flashed her a look of apology. "Sorry, I just…we need to know if this thing is a threat like Cas says."

Hot moisture burned at the corners of her eyes, and she settled her hands over her stomach, listening to the steady thrum within. "I don't have answers for you," she said weakly. "Except that you don't feel what I do. This spark, this brand new spark inside me…it _doesn't_ _feel_ evil." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Doesn't feel like a monster."

Sam and Dean exchanged another look, and Ryn closed her eyes against a swell of tears, feeling utterly alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, I went there. Honestly, when this idea first came to me, I was very leery. But then I was tickled by the image of a proud Uncle Dean…and things spiraled from there. So I know it's a rough start, but things will get better!


	2. Chapter 2

Sam watched Ryn retreat down the hallway toward the dormitory wing, everything in her posture dejected. Neither he nor Dean said anything or tried to stop her. Sam, for one, was still pretty much in shock over the news. Not just by the whole baby thing, but the last time he'd seen Cas so unyieldingly adamant about something had to have been…what, five years ago? Back when said angel had been dead set on opening Purgatory.

Sam hoped they weren't on the verge of something as equally dire.

"You really think this baby is gonna be a threat to the world?" he asked, taking a seat at the study table.

Dean shook his head and started to pace. "Hell if I know. Cas seems to think so."

Sam fell into silent contemplation for a few minutes. Dean finally gave up his agitated pacing and collapsed into the chair across from him. Neither of them looked at their laptops and the news stories they'd been combing through in search of a case only minutes before. One had fallen into their laps.

"Hey, remember the spell Metatron used to cast the angels out of Heaven?" Sam said.

Dean quirked a dubious look of irritation at him. "Yeah, kinda hard to forget. What about it?"

Sam bit back a surge of annoyance and focused on his train of thought. "I mean the spell itself. Wasn't one of the ingredients the heart of a nephilim?"

"Oh great, so Cas Junior can grow up to have his heart cut out and the angels kicked out of Heaven again? 'Cause that was so much fun the first time."

Sam shot his brother a scathing glower at that, but before he could respond, Dean's face scrunched up incredulously.

"You're not suggesting we incubate the thing in the hopes of reversing that spell, are you?"

"God, Dean, no!" Sam scowled at his brother. "It's not even technically a nephilim anyway. No, what I'm saying is if Metatron needed the heart of a nephilim for that spell, that meant there was one running around on Earth for however many years, _not_ causing trouble. Meaning they're not born inherently evil."

"Okay, but as you said, Ryn isn't human. This thing is gonna be half phoenix instead of half human," Dean countered.

"Ryn isn't a monster," Sam said firmly. Both he and Dean had learned that early on. "Hell, she's one of the most decent people we know," Sam continued. "So is Cas. Doesn't that kind of parentage mean something?"

Dean's brows furrowed in deep thought, but after a moment they smoothed and he canted his head in acceptance of that logic. "Okay, so we probably don't have Rosemary's baby cooking in the oven." He frowned. "It's gonna take a miracle for Cas to come around, though."

"Yeah," Sam agreed soberly. Looking back on the exchange, he realized that while Cas had seemed angry and volatile, it was mostly real, genuine fear in his eyes. He just needed some time to come down from the shock, and then he'd see reason and realize that he hadn't spawned some evil lovechild.

Sam leaned back in his chair and shook his head in continuing disbelief. "Cas having a _kid_." The angel having a romantic relationship with anyone was a hard enough image to get used to. But being a _dad_? He wasn't exactly the type to change diapers or show up at parent-teacher conferences.

Dean snorted. "Just when our lives couldn't get any weirder."

Sam scrunched his face up thoughtfully as another thought occurred to him. "That…would make us uncles, wouldn't it?"

Dean blinked at him in surprise, but then his gaze drifted to the side as that started to sink in. The corners of his mouth quirked upward. "I guess it would."

And he sounded a tad piqued by it.

Sam found himself…oddly drawn to the idea, too.

* * *

Castiel swept under the dark canopy of trees, pushing his way through tangled brambles that tried to snag his coat like prying fingers, mocking him in the whistle of the night wind through the smattering of leaves. He pushed onward, chest constricting tighter and tighter until his vessel's lungs could no longer receive oxygen. They burned in distress and his vision grew spotty, though it shouldn't have affected him so.

He finally burst from the thicket into a small clearing, bowing forward with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. The horror of what he'd done clawed at his insides with vicious recrimination. He had been so _stupid_. He should have been more careful. No, he should have never initiated physical intimacy with Ryn in the first place. But he'd been selfish. More than that, he'd been a fool to think he _deserved_ what they had with each other. That after all his sins and attempts at penance, he'd been forgiven and granted something he never could have hoped to receive.

But Castiel destroyed everything he touched, no matter how noble or pure his intentions. He'd made the mistake of forgetting that, and was now being brutally and horrifically reminded of it.

His heart burned with shame. Swallowing the souls from Purgatory and declaring himself God had been disgraceful, but this…this was worse.

Guilt wrapped around his ribs like a vice and squeezed. He hated himself for what he'd done, but he also hated himself for putting that wrecked look of hurt and betrayal on Ryn's face. What was he supposed to do, though? He couldn't abide the sin they'd committed, couldn't let _it_ live. Even if- even if he wanted to…should Heaven find out, the angels would never let it stand. They would hunt down the child, Ryn, and Castiel, and slaughter them all as punishment. Probably the Winchesters too, for just being associated with them. No, Castiel had one chance to fix his grievous mistake.

But he feared it would cost him the woman he loved.

He tipped his head back toward the sky, wishing he could pray for guidance. He didn't, though, because God had never answered him before. And what if the answer was only confirmation for what he knew must be done, even if it broke him? It would, too. But then, wasn't that always to be Castiel's fate? To be broken for those he loved? Humanity, the Winchesters, Heaven at times…Ryn.

He gasped in a shuddering breath and scanned the heavens. The stars were veiled behind a thick shroud that even his angelic sight couldn't pierce, as though they, too, couldn't stand the sight of his wretched existence, and had passed their judgement and condemnation on him.

Castiel stayed on his knees in the dark for hours, his pants growing wet from kneeling on the damp, mulch-covered ground. His cheeks and hands grew numb in the chill night air, as did the muscles in his legs, but he didn't move. He yearned for feeling to leech out of his heart as easily as it did his vessel's exterior.

He did become numb eventually, but not out of clarity or a sense of pure, calculating resolve. Just defeat and heartache.

Castiel finally rose stiffly to his feet and turned to stagger back toward the bunker. He didn't know what time it was, except that it had to be very late. There was a light on downstairs when he entered, and he figured someone had left it on for him, even though he didn't actually need it to see by. But when he came into the library, he pulled up short at the sight of Dean reclining in a chair, feet propped up on the table. He had his laptop in his lap, but closed it when he spotted Castiel.

"Hey."

Castiel shifted his weight. "Hey."

Dean's gaze flicked to Castiel's pants, and he glanced down at the dirty splotches on his knees and shins. He suddenly found himself without the energy—or wherewithal—to bother cleaning them. They seemed an oddly appropriate visual manifestation for the soiled mark on his soul.

"You all cooled off?" Dean asked.

Castiel considered the chill that had seeped into his mortal shell. "Yes."

Dean swung his legs down and set the laptop aside. "Okay, that's good."

"I'm sorry if you were worried," he said. "You didn't have to wait up."

It occurred to him then how much he had wronged the Winchesters in all this, tainting their home and forcing them to witness him falling from grace yet again. And now they might have to clean up after him as well.

Castiel's teeth were gritted so tightly, he almost couldn't get words out. "Goodnight, Dean." He started to move past him.

"Cas, sit down."

Castiel stopped and clenched his fists. "I'd rather not." This was his burden, his crime.

But Dean just let out a weary sounding sigh. "Look, man, I get that this was a big shocker. But now that we've all had some time to process and think about it, we can look at things more objectively."

Castiel stared at him incredulously. "Objectively? Dean, there is only one answer here, and it's that this child cannot be allowed to exist."

"Why?" he challenged.

Castiel sputtered. Had he not been paying attention? "Because it's an abomination."

Dean huffed in what sounded like vexation, and held up a warning finger. "First off, stop using that word. It upsets Ryn. Second of all, what exactly makes this kid evil? The fact that its parents are an angel and a phoenix? An angel and a phoenix who are two of the most loyal and _good_ people on this whole damn planet, I might add. If that doesn't mean your kid is gonna be a saint, I don't know what will."

Castiel rolled his eyes, his own irritation mounting. "Dean, it's _forbidden_."

The Winchester got out of his chair and came around the table to stand before him. "Okay, let's for a minute pretend that Heaven doesn't have any say about this. You know, because their proclamations about releasing Lucifer and destroying half the planet were such righteous decisions. Not to mention the whole brainwashing their own soldiers and carving out their brains like ice cream."

Castiel's jaw ticked as the haunting memories of Naomi's torture stirred within his mind.

"Heaven isn't always right just because they say so," Dean continued fervently. "You know that, Cas, you've lived it!"

He looked away, seeing the validity in Dean's argument, but knowing deep down that it didn't change things. It couldn't…

"Cas, look at all the monsters we've come across who've chosen a different way, who choose to live quietly without hurting anyone," Dean pressed. "Choice matters. Upbringing matters. Who cares what this kid's genetics are, because you and Ryn aren't gonna raise it to be a monster."

Castiel's heart twinged with the desire to protest further, to repeat everything he'd been saying already…everything Heaven had drilled into him. But then he was reminded of a gilded room so long ago, when Dean Winchester had faced him down and laid things out so clearly that it had irrevocably changed the course of Castiel's path forever.

_"There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it."_

Could Dean be right this time, too?

Dean's expression softened in sympathy. "Cas, I get that you and Ryn didn't plan this. Hell, maybe you never even wanted it. But this doesn't have to be a bad thing."

Castiel gazed at him in shock. Dean was…okay with this? Implications of this offspring's lineage aside, bringing a baby into their lives would change everything. It would add numerous complications that Castiel couldn't even begin to count.

Dean clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Just think about it, okay? There's no need to jump into any…smiting."

Castiel swallowed hard. He didn't know what to think anymore, what to do, or even what to say. He could only stand there dumbly.

Dean eventually stepped away, said something about Castiel getting some rest, and then finally retired to bed.

Castiel managed to break out of his fugue state, and slowly made his way down the hallway to his room. The door was partially open, and through the gap he spotted Ryn curled up on the bed, her back to the door. Castiel couldn't tell if she was awake. Part of him yearned to go to her, to pull her into his arms and whisper apologies in her ear.

But another part of him was ashamed to touch her, was sickened at the thought of being so close to… _it_.

And so like a coward, Castiel turned away, and wove his way deeper into the bunker and down to the archive rooms where he might bury himself in a search for another answer to his plight.

* * *

Sam shambled into the kitchen with a yawn, scratching the back of his head as he went straight to the coffee pot. He grimaced when he pulled it out and found it completely empty. Someone had been drinking their stock dry every night, and Sam had a good guess as to who. But neither he nor Dean had said anything to Cas about it. The angel had been mostly avoiding them all for the past few days, sequestering himself down in the storage rooms doing who knew what. Sam and Dean had agreed to give him a little space, but Sam was beginning to think he should leave a note out at night with instructions for Cas to put on a fresh pot every time he drank the last of the brewed coffee.

He got the bag of grounds out and put some scoops in the machine, then let it percolate as he set about making an omelet for breakfast. He was chopping up some bell peppers when Cas shuffled into the kitchen, an empty coffee mug dangling in one hand. Sam stopped what he was doing to give the angel an evaluative look to try to determine his mood.

Cas just went straight to the coffee pot, only to stop when he realized it hadn't finished brewing a fresh cup yet. Then some of the stiffness seemed to bleed out of his shoulders, leaving him shifting awkwardly as though he suddenly didn't know what to do with himself.

"Mornin', Cas," Sam said tentatively.

The angel glanced over him, startled. "Oh. Good morning, Sam," he said tonelessly.

Sam went back to chopping up the vegetables and dumping them in the egg mixture, all the while flicking furtive glances at Cas. He was looking a little more worn than usual in the way his hair was slightly mussed and his tie askew.

Sam poured the eggs and veggies into the heated pan and turned around as they sizzled. "Hey, Cas, you know if you ever wanna talk about anything, I'm here."

Cas didn't respond, just kept watching the coffee pot.

Sam held back a sigh. He wished he knew what was going on in the angel's head. This thing with Ryn was a big deal, but Cas had pretty much shut them all out after that first night. At least there hadn't been any more talk of killing the evil spawn.

Movement drew Sam's attention to the door as Ryn came in, only to pull up short at the sight of Cas. She didn't say anything, expression almost carefully neutral save for a gleam of vulnerability in her eyes.

Cas gazed back at her for a long moment, face equally blank, and then he moved to stride past her without a word, taking his empty mug with him.

Ryn's shoulders sagged, and she looked ready to leave too.

"Want some coffee?" Sam asked. The machine had started to gurgle and spew out a stream of steaming brown liquid. He opened the cupboard to grab a clean mug.

"Is there arsenic in it?"

Sam froze, and threw a horrified look over his shoulder. Ryn was gazing back at him with a detached blandness that came from having to shut everything down, lest it crush you. And Sam realized that in his and Dean's deference to giving Cas space, they'd inadvertently given Ryn the same.

"Dean and I are fine with the baby," he blurted, wincing in apology. "I'm sorry we didn't actually say it before."

Her eyes narrowed a fraction, looking skeptical and a little wary. Sam internally cringed at his unintentional insensitivity, and hurriedly poured some fresh coffee into the mug, only to stop just when he was about to hand it to her.

"Uh, actually, should you even have caffeine?"

Ryn heaved a sigh as she gazed longingly at the steam wafting up from the brew. "I don't think one cup of coffee can make things any worse."

Sam set the mug on the counter and took a step forward, opening his arms in tentative invitation. Ryn didn't back away, and so he enfolded her in a hug. She was stiff at first, but after a second melted into it.

"You just have to give Cas some time," he said earnestly. "He'll come around."

Ryn was silent, and Sam eventually pulled away to pick up the mug and hand it to her. She wrapped her hands around it and lifted the rim to her lips, sipping slowly.

The aroma of burning eggs had Sam sprinting back to the stove then and flipping his omelet over. It was a little burnt, but still edible.

"Do you want one?" he asked, tossing a questioning glance at Ryn.

She shook her head. "No, thank you."

Sam scooped his breakfast onto a ready plate and turned the stove off. "We should probably think about baby-proofing the bunker," he mused out loud. "There's a ton of weapons and other dangerous stuff lying around."

Ryn gave him a wan, forced smile over the edge of her mug. "I appreciate the gesture, Sam, but it may not be needed."

He frowned. "What do you mean? I thought you wanted to keep the baby?"

Ryn didn't answer, just ducked her head. Sam quirked a brow in confusion, wondering if she was changing her mind. Or, was she thinking something else?

Sam's pulse quickened, but he resisted the urge to say anything. Emotions were still raw, and as long as no rash decisions were made under duress, things would work out.

A lump settled in Sam's throat, and he shoved a forkful of omelet into his mouth to force it down, trying to hide his own worry over whether that was actually true.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything's going to be okay now, I promise!

Ryn stood in the bunker's garage, eyeing a classic motorcycle with cherry rims, beige leather seat, and a brown satchel affixed to the back wheel. It was certainly a classic that fit in with the other automobiles housed in the bunker's garage. Ryn wondered what plucky Man of Letters had opted for this set of two wheels when everyone else had clearly favored four. She reached out to lightly finger the chrome handlebar.

Someone cleared their throat behind her, and she jerked her hand back as though she'd been caught trying to touch a priceless museum artifact.

"She's a beauty, huh?" Dean's voice echoed slightly in the vast garage.

Ryn roved her gaze over the bike. "Yes," she replied dully.

Dean came into her field of vision, making a surveying pass around the motorcycle. "You remember Charlie talking about Dorothy? It's hers. Told her I'd look after it while she's in Oz." He canted his head thoughtfully. "Though, the key to opening a portal there was destroyed, so I guess she's probably not gonna be coming back for it."

Dean finished his circle, stopping three feet away from Ryn. "You planning on taking it for a ride?"

The question sounded innocuous enough, but Ryn could detect the undercurrent of tension in it. A lump gathered in her throat. It had been a week. A horrible, agonizingly long week of walking on eggshells around each other, of wondering what came next…wondering if Castiel hated her for doing this to him. He could barely stand to be in the same room as her anymore.

She swallowed hard. "If Cas can't accept this baby…then yes, I'll leave, and have it on my own."

She had been on her own before, had been alone for thousands of years before _and_ after Castiel had come into her life the first time. He'd filled a void she'd thought would ache forever. Not only him, but his family that had welcomed her into their fold as well. She had never let herself grow so attached before, and she was surprised by how fervently she didn't want to lose this.

But the child she carried was a gift. A precious, innocent sign of the purest love between two people Ryn had ever experienced. And she could not allow it to be snuffed out by ignorance and prejudice. If Castiel couldn't learn to love this child, couldn't love Ryn for deciding to keep it…then at least she would always have a part of him with her. Maybe in a set of crystal blue eyes, or a gesture, or a curious head tilt.

Ryn splayed her fingers over her still flat stomach. She only hoped no one would try to stop her.

"Cas is having a hard time," Dean said, sounding as though it was taking quite the effort to remain calm and composed at her declaration. "You just have to give him a chance to process it."

"I know why Cas feels the way he does," she replied. "I understand why. I've witnessed Heaven's brutal ruthlessness first-hand."

The angels had slaughtered hundreds of children that night in Egypt, human children who had committed no crime. Castiel had followed orders then, though Ryn knew it had sundered his too pure heart in two to do it. And then he'd paid dearly for not carrying out the heinous deed fully by killing one, insignificant phoenix. She still hoped, though…that the part of that devout soldier that had learned to love a creature like her, could also learn to love the product of their forbidden union.

And so she turned away from the motorcycle. "And I'm not leaving," she said. "At the moment."

Dean reached a hand up to rub his chin. "Ryn, look…no matter what happens with Cas, it's not like me and Sam are gonna choose sides here. You won't have to go through this alone."

Her heart constricted at the genuineness behind the offer, even though she knew it wasn't practical. "He's your best friend."

"And that's his kid, whether he wants to accept it or not," Dean replied, a tad gruffly. He then shifted his weight awkwardly. "So it's family. You're family. If you feel you need to leave eventually…okay. But don't disappear, and don't shut us out." His mouth quirked into a hesitant half smile. "I mean, me and Sam are gonna be uncles."

Moisture blurred the corners of her eyes, and she had to tip her head back to keep it from spilling over, breathless over the level of loyalty she hadn't expected, would have never dared ask for. "Okay," she whispered.

Dean's own eyes were looking a little misty, but he quickly shook it off. "So, you hungry? I can cook something. You gotta start eating for two, right?"

Ryn nodded; hunger was starting to become a factor as her body adjusted to supporting this new life growing inside her.

Dean held his arm out for her to head for the door first. "What'll it be? Burgers? Steak?"

"I'm not housing a carnivore," she rejoined dryly. "But actually, you do make a mean cheeseburger."

Dean broke into a wide grin. "Comin' right up."

* * *

Dean made burgers for dinner, and he, Ryn, and Sam sat around the map table in the war room eating them. It was the first time in a week they'd sat down together like this, and Dean regretted not having done it sooner. He'd let himself fall into his usual habit of avoidance, not realizing how hard this all had been for Ryn, too, thinking she was alone in it when she wasn't.

Dean got where Cas was coming from. Kind of. But it had been a week, and Dean was done waiting for the angel to get his head out of his ass. And so after dinner was over and Sam and Ryn were doing cleanup in the kitchen, Dean went to track down their stubborn-ass angel and knock some sense into him.

He found Cas deep in the archive wing, as expected, half a dozen crates open around him as he shifted through their various contents, setting items out in different clusters on shelves and lids.

"Organizing a garage sale?" Dean said in lieu of a greeting.

Cas glanced up with a confused frown. "The Men of Letters had a large collection of items they had yet to catalog when they'd been wiped out by Abaddon," he replied. "I thought someone should see to it, as there could be dangerous objects in here."

"Yeah, alright, no. You're hiding down here, Cas."

The angel went perfectly still, hand on the edge of one of the crates. "Dean, don't—"

"No," Dean cut him off. "You've had enough time to brood. Get over it."

Cas's eyes flashed dangerously at him, but Dean refused to back down. This was too important.

"You're gonna be a dad. Yeah, you didn't ask for it, but man up already. Because if you don't, you are going to lose Ryn."

Cas's face tightened in obvious pain at the thought, but he ducked his gaze. "I can't do it," he said, voice strained.

Dean sighed. "Cas, we talked about this. A kid isn't _born_ a monster. You raise it right, it'll grow up to be a decent human being." He paused. "Or, you know what I mean."

Hm, they needed to come up with a name for this hybrid.

Cas shook his head. "But I won't raise it right."

Dean scowled, trying to bite back his frustration at how mulish his friend was being. "Cas—"

"I'll be a horrible father, Dean," he blurted.

Dean blinked, not expecting that to be the angel's protest. "What? Come on, man."

"I never met my father," Cas went on. "He left. I don't- I don't know how to raise a child." His voice dropped to just above a whisper. "How to love one."

Dean gave his best friend a sympathetic look. "You won't have to do it alone, Cas. Ryn's got a good head on her shoulders. And me and Sam will help. Hell, I practically raised Sam, and he didn't turn out too badly, did he? Aside from the hair, but what can you do?" He shrugged haplessly, but it didn't elicit a smirk or even an eye roll. "I'll teach you all the tricks," he promised more seriously.

Cas still didn't look convinced.

Dean stepped closer, personal space rule be damned. "As for the other thing, Cas, you've always had too much heart. The other angels may see it as a bad thing, but I'm telling you right now, that no one would love that kid more than you."

Cas looked away, a muscle in his jaw jerking. Watching the pained lines around his eyes and the sheen in them, Dean realized that Cas's reticence now was less about having committed some unforgivable sin, and more about being insecure and afraid.

Which, yeah, it wasn't like the guy had any decent role models.

"You're never gonna figure things out if you don't _talk_ to Ryn," Dean said. "And tell her how you feel."

Oh god, when had he become Dr. Phil? Next time he'd send Sam to deal with this shit.

Dean leveled a stern look at Cas. "You don't want to be like your deadbeat dad? Then don't abandon her to go through this alone."

Cas reeled back as though he'd been struck, and Dean felt slightly guilty for it, but if it got through to his stubborn-ass friend, then that's what Cas needed.

Long seconds ticked by in which the angel wavered with indecision and Dean waited patiently, trying to figure out what else he could say if this wasn't enough. Because he'd meant what he told Ryn; he and Sam would stand by her. And somehow they'd have to find a way to stand by Cas, too.

But Cas finally squared his jaw and nodded slowly. "You're right, Dean. I'm- I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one you need to say that to."

Guilt pinched his expression. "How can I face her? The things I said…"

"You know how many times me and Sam have said crap to each other?" Dean replied. "She gets it. And she loves you."

Cas shook his head, mouth thinning. "I don't deserve her."

"You can be a dumb-ass," Dean said. "But you still deserve her."

Cas lifted an uncertain gaze to his, and Dean nodded earnestly. Cas's shoulders heaved as he took a shuddering breath, and then he moved past Dean toward the door.

"Dean," he said, stopping on the threshold. "Thank you."

Dean quirked a smile at him. "Go get 'em, tiger."

* * *

Castiel made it all the way down the winding corridors to the dormitory wing, and even to the door of his room, but there he stalled, fear gripping his heart once again. Since his time as a human, he'd become acquainted with a wide range of emotions, which had only increased since then, but nothing so overwhelming as the torrent that hadn't let up its barrage since Ryn had told him the news. He still didn't know what to think, either. Dean's argument was sound, in more ways than one. But rationale wasn't enough to abate the sickened feeling that twisted inside his stomach every time he thought about what he had wrought.

But ignoring the situation wouldn't make it go away, and was only causing more damage. Whether he'd meant to or not, he had played a part in this, and needed to 'man up' as Dean had said. Ryn had once told Castiel that she chose to stand and fight in a battle that wasn't hers because she wanted to be someone honorable who would be worthy of his love. Well, he wanted to be worthy of hers.

Taking a deep breath, Castiel nudged the door open. Ryn was sitting on the bed, leaning back against the headboard as she lazily stirred a teabag in a cup of steaming water. Her hand stilled at his appearance.

"May I come in?" he asked hesitantly.

She set the cup on the nightstand and folded her hands in her lap. "It was your room first."

Castiel wavered, unsure if that was permission or not… He entered cautiously, gently closing the door behind him, and spread his hands in contrition. "I'm sorry."

Ryn regarded him tensely out of the corner of her eye. "For your reaction, or me getting pregnant in the first place?"

Castiel frowned. "Well, all of it," he admitted.

She looked away.

"No, that's not what I meant." Castiel huffed in frustration. He had never been very skilled at expressing himself. "I mean…I'm…do you want this child?"

Ryn looked his way again, eyes swimming. "Yes, I do."

Castiel nodded slowly. "Okay. Well, um, you have to know that I won't be good for it. I break half the things I touch." _All of them, really_. "It deserves better than me."

Ryn slid off the bed and closed the distance between them. "I wouldn't want to have this baby with anyone else. And you think you're the only one afraid of doing a poor job? My son Edan grew up bitter and spiteful. What does that say about me?"

Castiel's gut tightened as eons of strict preachings about the nature of monsters and nephilim echoed in his mind anew. But underneath them was Dean's voice, abrasive and domineering as it grew loud and insistent enough to drown them out.

"Edan had a hard life," Castiel said carefully. "And that wasn't your fault." He swallowed nervously. "And…this time you won't have to do any of it alone."

Ryn sucked in an audible breath, expression fearfully hopeful. Castiel was once again ashamed for putting her through this needlessly.

"I truly am sorry for what I said about…it." He winced; even the gender neutral pronoun in English sounded derogatory now.

Ryn lowered her head. "I do understand, Cas. How hard it is to change something that's been ingrained since you can remember."

His heart stuttered, memories of Naomi's manipulation flitting through his mind from when she had tortured him, trying to form him into a good little soldier. The things she had done…when his grace had been on the weaker side, it had haunted his nightmares. She had taken Ryn from him once before, and Castiel vowed not to let Naomi's ghost do it again.

Ryn wrapped her fingers around the wrist of his left hand, and brought it up to her stomach. Castiel instinctively stiffened, visceral disgust sloshing through him when she laid his hand flat over her belly.

"Can you hear it?" she asked softly.

Castiel wanted to recoil, but then he felt a tiny ping react to the proximity of his grace. It was so small, it might have been an anomaly, but as he listened further, there was the faintest trill nestled deep inside the chorus of Ryn's song. Mesmerized, Castiel tentatively reached out with a tendril of his grace, and a tiny spark fluttered in response. The breath stole from his lungs, and his eyes widened.

"That's…?"

She gave a measured nod. "Yes."

Castiel stared at her in astonishment as that tiny, almost imperceptible presence continued to hum underneath his touch.

It…was one of the most beautiful things he had ever heard.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam kept flicking glances at the hallway every few minutes, to the point where he couldn't actually follow what he was trying to read, as he kept losing his place. It wasn't interesting, anyway, just some utterly droll and not at all useful book on avian care. Just because both Ryn and Cas had wings didn't mean they were going to hatch their offspring. …Sam hoped not, at least.

Dean was idly flipping through one of his Busty Beauty magazines, feet propped up on the study table and looking completely unbothered by the fact that they hadn't heard anything from Cas or Ryn since last night.

Sam frowned, and twisted around to look out through the war room to the front door.

"They're both still there," Dean spoke up.

"What?"

Dean glanced meaningfully toward the exit. "I've been out here all night; no one tried to sneak out."

Sam leaned back in his chair, furrowing his brow. "Dude, you seriously stood guard?"

Dean just shrugged, like it wasn't weird…or uncalled for. Guess it had occurred to him, too, that one of the two lovebirds might split. Not that the Winchesters were keeping either of them prisoner or anything.

Sam ran a weary hand down his face, anxious to know whether Cas and Ryn had worked things out. Because the sooner they did, the sooner they all could start talking about other changes and preparations that would need to be made. Sam may have supported the idea of them having this baby, but that didn't mean any of them knew what to expect with it.

His gaze slid toward the corridor again, this time just as Cas came striding out. Alone. Sam straightened, shooting his brother a nervous look.

Dean put his feet down and set the magazine aside. "Hey, Cas," he greeted nonchalantly.

"Dean. Sam." Cas came to stand at the end of the table.

He didn't look mad, or as stiff as he'd been the past several days. Sam was gonna take that as a good sign…

"Um, I have a favor to ask," Cas said.

Sam eyed him curiously. "Okay, what is it?"

"Ryn still needs to get some things from her cabin, and I was hoping you would take her."

Sam lifted his brows. "So, she's still gonna move in?" That had to mean the two of them _had_ worked things out.

"Yes." Cas hesitated. "That is, if it's still alright. Taking care of a child… _this_ child…that's more than I can ask of either of you."

"We're family, Cas," Dean said. "That's what families do. And it's not a problem. I'm…kinda looking forward to being an uncle."

Cas blinked in surprise, then his expression slowly morphed into a timid smile. "Well, I will need all the help I can get."

Dean grinned back at him.

"Um, Cas," Sam spoke up. "Why aren't you taking Ryn to get her things?"

Cas instantly sobered. "There's something I need to do first."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Which is?"

Cas rolled his shoulder awkwardly and looked away.

"Tell me you are not thinking of going back to Heaven," Dean said sharply.

Cas whipped his head back. "No, of course not." His jaw visibly clenched. "I- I need to find Claire."

Sam's brows flew upward. "Claire?"

"I need to make sure she's okay."

Sam shook his head in disbelief. The last they'd heard from Claire, she'd tried to lure Dean into a trap to get beaten up—and _killed_ —by two idiotic douchebags. Sam was still a little sore about that, if he was honest. Not to mention the fact that the angst-ridden teenager clearly didn't want anything to do with them, for obvious reasons.

"Cas," Dean said. "Claire is not your responsibility."

"I know I'm not her father," he countered. "But if I'm going to be one…then I should take responsibility for the child whose life I irrevocably changed, and not necessarily for the better." Cas shifted his weight. "I owe Jimmy that much. Especially since, if our places were reversed…I would want someone to look after…my child." His throat bobbed as he forced the words out, still seeming unsure about using them.

Sam exchanged a look with Dean. Cas's heart was in the right place…and they _had_ just irresponsibly let a teenage girl drop off the map.

"Wait," Sam interjected. "You're not thinking of bringing Claire back here, are you?"

"No," Cas answered quickly, then softer, "No. As I said, I'm not her father. But I can't leave her out there, not knowing if she's safe or in trouble. I want to…fix what I can, so she at least has a chance at the life she was meant to have."

"What does Ryn think of this?" Dean asked carefully.

"She understands," Cas replied. "So, will you take her to Montana?"

"Maybe you should have some help with Claire," Sam said, leaning his arms on the table. "Dean could go with you, and I'll take Ryn."

Despite being the one to murder Claire's surrogate, albeit reprehensible, father figure, Dean did seem to have developed somewhat of a connection with the girl. More so than Sam, anyway.

Cas shook his head. "No, this is something I need to do alone."

Sam sighed, but his brother looked thoughtful.

"Okay," Dean said after a minute. "We'll take Ryn up to her cabin. But hey, you stay in touch, alright? Keep us informed about what's going on."

Cas nodded, looking relieved. "I will. Thank you."

"Sure thing." Dean rose to his feet and clapped Cas on the shoulder before the angel turned to head up the stairs and out the door, just like that.

Sam furrowed his brow. "You sure this is a good idea?"

His brother snorted. "I'm not really sure about anything these days. But if Cas says he needs to do this, who are we to tell him no?"

"You don't think it's another way for him to try to hide, keep from dealing with the situation?"

Dean pursed his mouth in contemplation for a long moment. "No. No, I think he gets it now. And maybe it'd be good for him to get some closure before starting his own family. Hell, it might even be good for Claire, too."

Sam canted his head, still not thoroughly convinced, himself. He stiffened as a thought occurred to him. "Um, maybe we should tell Cas not to mention the baby to Claire. She might not react well to that."

Dean's face scrunched up in a grimace. "Hm, yeah." He pulled out his phone and started tapping out a text.

Sam got up and went to go find Ryn so they could talk about their upcoming road trip.

* * *

Dean eased the Impala to a stop in the middle of the dirt road, still about twenty yards from where the roof of a cabin was peeking up through a canopy of trees. He threw the car in park.

"Okay, we're walking from here," he declared. No way was he driving his Baby through those pokey overgrown bushes and scratching up her paint job.

Sam rolled his eyes, but knew better than to complain. He pushed his door open and climbed out.

"Watch it," Dean warned when his brother didn't prevent the door's rim from brushing against some of the foliage.

"Dude, they're leaves." Sam flicked his hand at some of them.

"Attached to branches with pointy ends," Dean retorted, shooting him an incredulous look. "You plan on buffing out all the micro scratches those can leave?"

"No, because I'm not an obsessive compulsive maniac."

"Who's the chaperone here?" Ryn broke in, coming around to the front of the Impala and arching a brow at them.

Dean rolled his eyes and shut his door, then locked it. He and Sam followed Ryn up the road to where a cabin sat, nestled inside a ring of trees. Some ivy was growing halfway up one side, and it looked like some weeds had overtaken what was supposed to be some herb planters. Other than looking a little unkempt at having been untended for a while, the place seemed…nice. Quaint.

"How far away is your nearest neighbor?" Sam asked.

"That small town we passed on the way in."

Dean pulled up short. "That's ten miles from here."

Ryn shrugged, and stepped over a line of glittering quartz-like pebbles. Dean narrowed his eyes as he visually traced the stones in an arc around the house.

"Is that rock salt?"

"Yes. There's also warding inscribed on every tree." Ryn pointed to the trunk of an aspen whose white bark was stripped in places where lines of Enochian sigils and other kinds of runes had been carved into it. "Some are traps, too."

"Uh," Sam stammered. "Are you expecting an invasion?"

"Asks the guy who lives in a warded, underground silo?"

Sam grimaced. "Fair point."

Dean nodded slowly in appreciation as he took it all in. "Missing a devil's trap, though," he commented.

Ryn's mouth quirked, and she pointed her index finger straight up. Dean craned his neck back, brows flying upward when he spotted the unmistakeable lines of a devil's trap constructed out of friggin' _trees_. The branches had been tied together with hemp at the intersections to hold it all in place, and if one didn't know what the symbol looked like, it would have just seemed like a tangle of dried twigs.

Okay, now he was impressed.

"This place is awesome," he said. "You're keeping it, right? I mean, I know you're moving into the bunker, but it would make a nice vacation house, lots of room for a kid to run around, set off some fireworks."

"Fireworks?" Ryn repeated.

"Oh yeah. Sam loved those as a kid." Something warm and fuzzy blossomed in Dean's chest at the thought of being able to do that again. It was one of his happiest memories, after all, so much that it'd been part of his personal Heaven. They could all come up here for the 4th of July and set off firecrackers. Away from the warding, of course. And they could come up at Christmas and cut down an _actual_ Christmas tree, and put presents under it… Dean found himself starting to grin like an idiot.

Sam leaned down to study one of the carved wards. "Is there anything here we don't have set up at the bunker?"

Ryn's brows pinched thoughtfully. "I'm not sure. I can look around."

"Let's see inside first," Dean said. "What all do you need to pack?"

There wasn't much that Ryn would need to bring with her that the bunker didn't already have, but maybe she had some personal items she wanted to keep with her. Cas's room—or, their room, now—needed some personalization.

Ryn led the way to the front door and let herself in. It wasn't even locked, but then, with all the traps she had set up around the perimeter, she probably didn't need a lock and key. Not that something that simple would stand against the types of things she was warding against anyway.

The air inside was musty at having been closed up for so long, and Ryn immediately went to a window above the kitchen sink and pushed it open. Dean roved his gaze around the interior. The cabin had an open floor plan, with the kitchen on one side, which was really just that sink with counter space on either end and then a gas pilot stove, plus a small square table and two rickety chairs as the dining area. The 'living room' was across from it, with a rocking chair set next to another window and some bookcases along the wall. In the far back were two doors to what looked like bedrooms.

Ryn made her way to the one on the left and flicked on a light. "I'll just pack my clothes," she said.

Dean swung his arms idly, knowing better than to offer helping with that. His eyes landed on a crossbow propped up behind the door, and he picked it up to admire it. "Hey, we can bring this back with us," he said loudly.

"Dean, we're not gonna be able to have weapons lying around once the baby's born," Sam chided.

He frowned. Oh, right. Still, it was a beauty.

Ryn poked her head out of the bedroom to see what he meant, and gave him a considering look. "You can have it, if you like it that much."

"Really?" Dean waggled his brows at his brother.

"Sure," she replied. "You gave me that katana from the bunker."

Dean ran a finger down the crossbow's sleek frame. "Awesome."

Sam rolled his eyes, but then cast his gaze around the room. "So, uh, anything else you need help packing? Those books?"

There was the sound of a zipper, and then Ryn emerged with a stuffed duffel bag. She pursed her mouth. "I don't know…there are already lots of books at the bunker."

"So? You can never have too many books."

Dean snorted. "Says the nerd."

"Well, sure, then. There are some journals, too."

"Okay. Just point 'em out and we can start carrying them out to the car."

"Actually, Sam, if you wouldn't mind," Ryn interjected, eyes going above his head to where a row of dreamcatchers hung from one of the rafters.

"Oh, sure." And of course the Sasquatch could reach them easily on his tiptoes. "All of them?"

"Just the osprey feathers and opal beads," Ryn replied.

Sam gave her a blank look.

"Oh, burgundy leather and second one from center," she amended.

"Got it." Sam proceeded to get those down while Dean propped the crossbow against his shoulder and went over to take Ryn's bag.

"Seriously, you're not gonna like, sell this place, are you?" he brought up again.

Sam snorted. "Be kinda hard to explain all the occult symbols outside if you did."

Ryn smirked before she shook her head at Dean. "No, I'm not going to get rid of it. It's been a good home to me, and I do like it here."

He nodded. "Okay, good."

She canted a wry look at him. "Because of fireworks."

"Heck yeah. And throwing a football. Which, we could do outside the bunker," he allowed. "But I am gonna teach this kid everything he needs to know about sports, pro-wrestling, and how to pick up girls. Because we all know Cas isn't exactly an expert in that area. Present catch excluded," he added quickly.

Ryn's lips quirked. "And if it's a girl?"

Dean opened his mouth, only to flounder on his response. "Oh, um." _A girl?_ Okay, that would take some…reorienting. He rolled his shoulder sheepishly. "Then I guess we'll teach her how to avoid guys like us."

Sam huffed out a small laugh, and Ryn also looked amused. Passing Dean the duffel, she then reached up to place a hand against his cheek.

"When she grows up, I'd want her to find someone like you."

Dean blinked dumbly as she stepped back and started walking away, leaving him with his hands full.

"Wait," he said, twisting around. "Does that mean it _is_ a girl?"

A coy smile crept across Ryn's features, and she folded her hands across her still flat stomach. "I don't know, for sure. It's just…a feeling."

Dean reeled back as he processed that. Okay, so he was probably gonna have a niece. As that thought sank in, he felt a smile tug at his lips. He supposed he could get used to that.

"Really?" Sam said, moving toward her with a goofy grin on his face. "You tell Cas yet?"

Ryn shook her head. "Like I said, I'm not sure. Besides, I think I'd like to see if he can figure it out."

Dean's brows knitted together. "Uh, how is he supposed to do that? Twenty Questions? Because Cas is really not good at that game."

She gave him a good-natured scowl. "His grace is able to interact with the grace in the baby."

Sam's face scrunched up in confusion. "Interact? Like how?"

"Like, sense each other. Recognize each other. It's still too small to make out much, but I think in time Cas will be able to discern more."

Dean shook his head. So, like Cas and an unborn fetus could start having a conversation with each other? That was frankly veering way too far into weird territory for Dean's comfort.

He cleared his throat. "Anything else you wanna grab before we close up shop?"

Ryn went to the bookcase and pulled out several volumes, which she stacked in Sam's long arms up to his chin, then took a few more herself. Between the three of them, they were able to carry everything back to the Impala in one trip, though they then had to go back to close everything up and do a quick survey of the warding. Sam took pictures with his phone of anything Ryn wasn't sure the bunker already had. Then they were finally ready to hit the road.

Ryn tugged at Dean's sleeve as they reached the car. "Hey. Thank you, for everything," she said, giving them both a sincere look.

Dean decided he could bite the bullet this time, and went ahead and pulled her into a hug. "Anytime."

This wasn't what he'd thought his life would ever look like, either.

But families got bigger sometimes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone still reading this! Also, 29PiecesOfMe and I are writing a S12 finale AU together where Cas ends up trapped in the mirror world with Mary and Lucifer. We're about halfway done, too, so watch for it within the next couple weeks probably!

Castiel stood over the grave he'd recently dug deep in the woods on the outskirts of Tulsa, Oklahoma, his heart a fractured shard inside him. He had failed to keep his promise, again. After nearly two weeks of searching, he had finally found Claire in a hospital with a minor concussion she'd received in an altercation outside a dive bar. The young girl had not been happy to see him, but when Castiel found out that she was on the trail of her missing mother, he had promised to help find Amelia.

The discovery of the Grigori hunting and feeding off humans had been a horrifying shock. Castiel had tried to convince Claire to stay back at the motel and wait for him, but of course she had insisted on coming. Mother and daughter's tearful reunion had filled Castiel's heart near to bursting because he had finally done something _good_ for the family that had lost everything because of him.

But it was short-lived. The Grigori was swift and ruthless, tossing Castiel aside and moving in to strike Claire down. Amelia jumped between the avenging angel and her daughter, taking the blow instead. Castiel had tried to reach her, tried to get there in time to heal the fatal wound, but the Grigori's elite training and skill were too strong a match for him. He would have died in that barn if Claire hadn't taken up the fallen Grigori sword and run it through her mother's killer.

And now the two of them were standing over Amelia's grave. It would have been more appropriate to take her back to Pontiac, Illinois, Castiel thought, but without the ability to instantly fly there, he did not think it wise to make the trip. Besides, her husband's body wasn't there for her to be buried next to.

Claire was as rigid as a block of granite beside him, having spent all her tears back in that barn as she'd cradled her mother's limp form and spilled apologies from her lips. But this was _not_ Claire's fault. It was Castiel's. Again.

His complete and utter failure was an acidic tang in the back of his throat. How could he ever expect to take care of his own child if he couldn't protect someone else's? He didn't deserve to have Ryn and their baby, not when the innocent girl next to him had had both her parents violently ripped away from her.

Claire stepped forward and crouched down to lay a simple chain with a silver heart on the makeshift cross—two twigs lashed together with twine. After the next big storm, it would likely fall, and after the next season of rain, the freshly tilled soil would sprout a blanket of grass, and this grave would fade from sight and memory. But not the woman it honored.

Castiel cleared his throat awkwardly. "You know, I have found that in this world…death isn't always goodbye."

Claire stood up and turned to face him, expression devoid of emotion, but Castiel could sense the storm roiling underneath, the one she was fighting so hard not to feel.

"Let's just go." She moved past him, angry footsteps shuffling through fallen leaves.

Castiel lifted his eyes heavenward, moisture pricking at his lashes. He took some solace in the knowledge that Amelia and Jimmy were together now. And Amelia had seen how beautiful and strong her daughter had grown up to be. That…that had to mean something. Castiel hoped it did.

He bowed his head in a moment of silence, and then turned to follow the trail back to the car. As soon as he exited the woods onto the gravel drive, his phone chimed with a message. Castiel fished it out to look at the received text, and found an address for a place in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, along with a message from Sam.

" _Jody Mills is good people, and she'll give Claire a place to crash until she gets back on her feet._ "

Castiel quickly typed back, " _Thank you._ "

Claire was already sitting in the Continental, gaze turned out the passenger side window. Castiel slipped in behind the wheel and started the engine.

"I, uh, found you a place to… 'crash,'" he said. "Or, well, Sam did. With a woman named Jody Mills. They've told me about her before. She took in a girl who was kept as a vampire feeder for eight years. So she'll understand about the supernatural and…and something of what you've been through."

Claire turned her head to give him an unimpressed look. "So, what, this is some sort of halfway house for wayward girls?"

He quirked a confused brow. "No. Jody Mills is a sheriff."

Claire let out a derisive snort. "So it _is_ a halfway house."

"It's only temporary. A safe place for you to 'get back on your feet.'"

She turned away from him again, and they lapsed into silence as Castiel veered north onto the highway. He wished he knew what to say to her to make things better. As if there were any words that could accomplish that.

It was a nine-hour drive to Sioux Falls, and Castiel stopped after a few hours so Claire could get something to eat. But when he suggested a diner that was open twenty-four hours, she merely shrugged him off and said she'd rather grab something from a gas station and eat in the car. Castiel didn't argue. She had to be exhausted, and the sooner they arrived at their destination, the sooner Claire could find rest in a real bed and something better to eat than microwaved nachos.

Castiel huffed out a small laugh. "I remember when I was so proud to have mastered preparing those nachos at the Gas-N-Sip I worked at."

Claire looked up from the chips in her lap and angled a dubious look at him. "You worked at a Gas-N-Sip?"

"When I was human," he explained. "I lost my grace two years ago, and had to live as one of you. I found employment at a Gas-N-Sip. It wasn't much, but it was important, meaningful work, making those meals ready for customers, cleaning the bathroom. It also gave me a place to sleep in the back storeroom, which I was grateful for. You're quite fortunate to have a place to go tonight, you know."

Claire's frown deepened. "Where were Sam and Dean?"

His cheeks warmed with discomfort. "Oh, um. That's- that's a long story, actually."

"We have time," she said dryly, and munched on another chip. "How long were you…human?"

"Not long," he said, happy to slightly redirect the conversation. "I got my grace back a few months later. Well, not _my_ grace, but that's another long story." He should probably just stop talking now.

"How'd you lose it in the first place?"

Castiel tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and resisted the urge to reach up and rub his throat. "I trusted the wrong person."

Claire didn't say anything to that for a long moment. "Kinda like me with Randy, huh?" she finally muttered.

Castiel flicked a sidelong glance at her. "He showed you kindness when no one else in your life did at the time. That is not your fault."

"Was it your fault, when you trusted the wrong person?" she asked.

Castiel hesitated, on the verge of responding with an automatic 'of course.' But if he did that, it might negate what he had just told her about being blameless and taken advantage of. Castiel considered the situation with Metatron for a moment, looking back on it with a level of objectivity he'd never been able to before.

"I…don't think it was," he finally allowed, and a knotted stitch in his heart he'd been carrying these past two years seemed to loosen at the admission. Yes, he could have stayed with Dean instead of flying back to Heaven on his own, but that wouldn't have stopped Metatron in the end. And Castiel never would have trusted a word out of Naomi's mouth, not after everything she had done to him, dismantling him into her puppet and forcing him to almost kill Dean. No, next to her, Metatron had seemed like a saint sent by God to help Castiel go home.

Only, now he realized how that also would have been a mistake. Heaven wasn't his home anymore, hadn't truly been then, either. His home was with the Winchesters. And now Ryn.

"How do you keep trusting people?" Claire spoke up, breaking through his rumination.

Castiel considered the question seriously. He had trusted many wrong people in his time…usually angels, as sad and tragic as that was to admit.

"Not everyone is going to let you down," he answered. "There are good people in this world, people who will inspire love and devotion, and give you the same in return, unconditionally. No matter the mistakes you make. And you'll find that you love and cherish them, no matter theirs."

Claire crossed her arms. "Seems easier to go it alone. Trust only yourself, and then no one can let you down."

Castiel sent her a pointed look. "I think you and I both know that we can very easily let ourselves down."

She looked away, back out the window at the gloaming twilight as dawn started to trickle into the sky. "Like you let my father down?"

His shoulders sagged under the weight of guilt and remorse. "Claire, what happened to your father…I truly am sorry. But know that his sacrifice was not meaningless. Yes, he gave up his body, his…his vessel." Castiel cut off as his throat constricted. Jimmy Novak's mortal body was more than just a 'vessel' to Castiel now.

"I- I learned a lot from him. From Sam and Dean and the other humans I was able to interact with. And his selfless act helped save the world. Your father is a hero," Castiel insisted. "He did not die in vain."

Claire was silent for several long moments. "You mean you helped save the world."

He frowned at the unexpected soberness in her tone. "Well, I tried to help. I'm afraid I…quite often made things worse." Unintentionally as it may have been. But his friends, his true family, had always forgiven him, in the end.

"Yeah, but you were there. You tried," she persisted. "And you sacrificed for it too. I can tell, you know. When I said you were different…that's part of it."

Castiel rolled his shoulder in discomfort. "Yes," he admitted. Yes, there had been sacrifice. Rebelling against Heaven and being cut off, dying twice for it, too…sacrificing himself to stop Raphael, even if that had ended very, very badly. Losing his grace…

"But," he continued tentatively, "I like to think that I've changed for the better."

Claire canted her head, studying him for a prolonged beat as the tires devoured the road ahead of them. "You have."

Castiel looked over in surprise. Was that…not forgiveness, no, but…absolution?

Claire didn't hold his gaze, yet there was less tension in the lines of her features, less simmering storm cloud when she turned her head into the spilling light of morning. The dawn always symbolized a new beginning.

They arrived in Sioux Falls a couple of hours later, and Castiel pulled his Continental into a long driveway behind a Sheriff's SUV.

"Well, this must be it," he said unnecessarily, turning off the ignition.

"You don't have to walk me to the door, you know."

Castiel blinked. "Oh. Alright."

Claire twisted in her seat to reach into the back and grab her duffel. She also grabbed the brightly colored gift bag containing the plush cat Castiel had given her back in the hospital for her birthday, despite that she'd seemed unimpressed with it at the time. Maybe he hadn't chosen a wrong gift after all. It gave him a little hope for when he'd have to obtain birthday presents in the near future.

"Um, Claire," he said as she opened her door. "If you, um, if you…need anything, ever, I'm…I just wanted you to know that…"

Claire surged forward, cutting him off with a surprise and somewhat awkward hug, cramped in the car as they were. She pulled back almost as abruptly.

"You said sometimes death isn't always goodbye, right?" she said. "So goodbyes aren't always forever." She quickly shuffled her way out of the car with her bags, then ducked her head down for one last look. "Take care of yourself, Castiel."

He was still reeling from the sincerity in her voice when she slammed the door closed and made her way around the hood and up the path toward the front door of the house. Castiel watched as she hesitated on the porch, but inevitably mustered the courage to raise a hand and knock.

The door opened only a few moments later, revealing a woman with short brown hair and dressed in a purple flannel shirt. She took in Claire's appearance, and held out her hand. Claire hiked the strap of her duffel higher on her shoulder before accepting the handshake.

The brunette cocked her head, inviting Claire in, and then cast a quick look over the teen's shoulder at Castiel sitting in the car. She gave him a measured nod, and he felt his shoulders lose some of their tension. And for the first time in weeks, he thought that perhaps, Claire would be all right. Because if there was anything else he had learned from his time among humans, it was the capacity of their hearts and the resilience of their spirit.

Castiel backed his car out of the driveway and turned south. He was ready to go home.

* * *

Ryn tapped her pencil against the yellow memo pad as she studied the translation she'd just finished. She glanced at the original text open in front of her, and then turned back to erase a word on the line above. She was out of practice with some of the more ancient languages, and that particular word in Greek had a host of various meanings. She needed to research the source text's origin and try to narrow down a specific dynamic of Greek usage based on the social and cultural context of who wrote it and where.

The front door screeched open, and Ryn paused, straightening at attention. Dean was in the kitchen, and Sam had already gotten back from his morning run, which meant…

She stood up from the study table, scooting her chair back with a small scrape. Footsteps rattled down the iron staircase, and a moment later Castiel came through the war room and up the two steps into the library. He pulled up short at the sight of her, looking surprised. Then his gaze dropped a few inches and his eyes widened a fraction.

Ryn instinctively pressed a hand over the slight bulge of her stomach, heart fluttering with a flicker of trepidation. Had two weeks away given him the clarity he needed, or would that initial horror get stirred up again?

Before she could break the precarious silence, he strode straight forward and put his arms around her. She almost squeaked at the fervency of the hug compressing her ribs, but then relaxed into it, bringing her arms up to squeeze back.

The spark inside her gave an excited spurt, and Castiel pulled back sharply.

Ryn arched an intrigued brow. "Did you feel that?"

"Y-yes. What…?"

She grabbed his hand and moved it to rest against her belly. The spark inside hummed contentedly. Ryn pressed her lips together in a smile. "Someone missed you."

"But- that's…how can it…?" As he adjusted his palm over her stomach more intently, his eyes widened in dismay. "I can feel my grace. Or, not mine, exactly. It's…changing, growing into something else."

Ryn watched Castiel's face carefully for signs of horror or disgust, but at the moment it was just pure bewilderment. The longer he stood there, however, gaze narrowed in concentration as his grace and the thread inside her slowly settled into a synchronized thrum, the more that confusion morphed into astonishment, and a little bit of wondrous awe. When he finally lifted his eyes to hers again, there was a glimmer of apprehensive joy in their depths.

Ryn smiled, and let his hand drop away. "How was your trip?"

Castiel glanced at her belly again, seemingly struggling to focus. "Um, it was…enlightening." He looked up and smiled back. "And I'm glad to be home."

Dean's spry footsteps came into the library then as he brought in a sandwich plate and glass of water. "Cas, hey. You just get back?"

"Yes," the angel replied. "Claire is at Jody's now, and…and it's up to her what she does with her second chance."

Dean nodded, and set the plate and cup on the table where Ryn had been sitting. "You gave her that second chance, Cas. You did good."

Castiel nodded thoughtfully, and glanced at Ryn again. "I hope to do better with mine, too."

Ryn smiled, and then quirked a brow at the sandwich Dean had brought. "Is that avocado?"

"Yeah, what? You don't like avocado?"

"Since when do _you_ make a sandwich with anything green on it?"

"I'm not the one eating it. And besides, you gotta feed that growing baby right."

Ryn rolled her eyes, but it was with a smile. She had never been so…doted upon. It was rather sweet.

"Anyway," Dean went on. "I'm glad you're back, Cas. Now Sam and me can get back to hunting."

Castiel furrowed his brow. "Do you have a case?"

"Yeah, one in Colorado. Sounds like a ghost. We would've gone earlier, but didn't want to leave Ryn alone."

"I could have gone with you," she pointed out.

The look of utter horror Dean threw her then was almost laughable. "You can't come," he blurted.

"Excuse me?"

"Not in…your condition," he sputtered, gesturing vaguely at her.

Ryn crossed her arms. "I'm barely that far along." Yes, she was going to have a somewhat accelerated gestation period, but it wasn't like she was ready to give birth next week. "And even pregnant, I could still kick your ass."

Dean's mouth floundered on a response, and he threw Castiel a look for help. Ryn narrowed her eyes on the angel, daring him to say anything patronizing.

"Um." Castiel shifted his weight, darting uncertain glances between them. He finally settled his gaze on Dean. "I believe her assessment is accurate that she could 'kick your ass,' at the moment."

Dean shot him a dark glower in return. "Fine. But only the easy cases."

Ryn almost asked if there ever were any 'easy cases,' but decided not to get Dean worked up more. His concern, however overprotective, came from a place of love. And it filled Ryn with as much warmth as the ember simmering inside her.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean had to admit that it was pretty handy having a phoenix who could channel fire along on cases. It made salt and burning bones a fraction of time quicker, which, when you were in the middle of fighting for your life against an angry ghost, made all the difference. It also saved their asses on a rugaru hunt.

But after about a month of that, Ryn's belly had gotten significantly larger, and she'd finally decided it was time to give up coming on cases and spend more time at the bunker translating old texts. Which meant Cas bowed out on most hunts now, unless it was something like demons or a large nest of vampires the brothers would have a hard time tackling on their own.

Things fell into a routine for them again, mostly. They still had no idea when Ryn was actually due to pop, but at the rate that baby was growing, it was definitely gonna be shorter than a full nine months.

Dean and Sam met up with Donna Hanscum for a case, which had ended up taking a toll on all of them, not just because of the innocent lives ruined, but once again, Dean saw a taste of just how much more _monstrous_ mere humans could be. And he felt sorry for that poor bastard Chester.

Even so, when he stormed into the bunker the day after and Ryn asked how the case went, he grumbled that they were never hiring "grown-ass men in party costumes for the baby's birthday. _Ever_." And then he went to take a scalding hot shower.

Charlie came to visit, and gushed and fawned over Ryn and put together an impromptu baby shower, which Dean had unfortunately gotten wrapped into. Fortunately, there wasn't too much froufrou going on, though there was a lot of online shopping for baby stuff. Which made Dean realize they should start thinking about converting one of the other bedrooms in the dormitory wing into a nursery.

And then Sam's childhood imaginary friend crashed the party, and things got weird for a bit, which was saying something, considering their lives currently. That case got wrapped up, though.

Of course, there was always another, and it was a month later before Dean found the time to get out the crib Charlie had bought and start putting it together. Except whoever had designed this contraption seemed to have made it as complicated as possible. Dean had nearly two dozen pieces spread out on the library floor, with triple that in screws of various sizes all haphazardly thrown in a single plastic bag.

He tried to fit two slats together, squinting at the picture and trying to get the alignment to match, but he was having an utterly miserable time of it. "These instructions are in Japanese!" he growled, tossing the pieces down. Although, he doubted had they been in English it would have helped much.

"Would you like me to try?" Cas asked, coming to stand next to where he was sitting on the floor.

Dean roughly passed up the papers. "Have at it."

Cas took the instructions and looked them over. Ryn was reclining in one of the more comfy, upholstered chairs, watching the process, while Sam was at the other end of the study table doing something on his laptop.

Dean snapped his fingers as a thought came to him. "Oh hey, we still need to come up with a name for this kid."

Ryn arched a brow. "Um, that's usually the parents' job."

"No, not like that. I mean it's gonna be half angel, half phoenix, a brand new thing in existence. It needs a name."

Sam whipped his head up. "Dean, no," he said warningly.

Dean ignored his brother, rubbing his hands together eagerly. "Um, how about a phoegel?" he said.

"What?" Sam sputtered. "That sounds like an amoeba."

Ryn's face scrunched up in distaste. "We are not referring to my offspring as a blob of protoplasm."

"Well, until it's born, we don't actually _know_ what it will look like, though, right?" Dean grimaced. Ugh, there was an image.

Cas briefly looked down to shoot Dean an 'I-will-smite-you' glare, before returning to trying to decipher the assembly instructions. He tilted the unfolded pages two different ways, glancing between it and the pieces spread out on the floor. "I don't understand. Installing a drive belt seems easier than this."

Dean scoffed. No kidding. He leaned his head back in thought for a moment. "An angix?"

Sam groaned. "Dude, just stop."

"Well, we can't just keep calling Junior an 'it,'" Dean retorted. It'd be nice to know for sure whether it was a boy or a girl, but Dean didn't want to risk going for an ultrasound.

"Have you two thought of a name yet?" Sam directed to Ryn and Cas.

Cas started in surprise. "Oh, um, no." He shot Ryn an apologetic look. "I didn't even think of it," he admitted, sounding worried. "I've never had to name something before."

"Hey, man, it's not a big deal," Dean said. "Most people just pick something out of a baby book."

Cas thrust the instructions onto the table. "Names are important, Dean," he responded earnestly. "They mark the wishes and hopes one has for their offspring, to lay down a future of intent. It's not a responsibility I take lightly."

"Uh, Cas," Sam interjected. "A name doesn't determine someone's future."

"No, but it carries the strength of a blessing," Cas argued, and turned to look down at Dean. "Your name means 'valley' or 'presiding official.' You certainly are a strong leader, Dean, but you have also walked through the valley of shadow for most of your life."

Dean's knees were beginning to lock, so he pushed himself up off the floor, wincing when his joints creaked. Damn, was he really getting that old? "Uh, wow, so you're saying my life's been a crap-shoot all because my parents unknowingly named me after a friggin' valley?" He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, pretty sure it doesn't work that way, Cas."

Cas shook his head in exasperation. "No, of course your name isn't _why_. But when you walk through the valley, you never lose strength. You always keep fighting, always keep leading others to do so." He turned to Sam. "And your name means 'God has heard,' or 'name of God.'"

Sam shifted and made a noise of discomfort in the back of his throat. "Yeah, Cas, I know. But that 'intention' obviously went way off the mark. I was the boy with the demon blood, pretty much the exact opposite of what my name means."

The angel, again, shook his head adamantly. "But you always had faith, Sam, in spite of everything. God may not have personally been listening, but…" Cas suddenly ducked his gaze, and then added more softly, "I like to think that someone was."

Sam stared at him for a prolonged beat, and then gave Cas a small smile. "Yeah, you were."

Dean's throat grew a little tight. Damn, he'd never thought Cas would be able to put such a meaningful spin on something that seemed as random and arbitrary as their names. Definitely put things into a different perspective, that was for sure.

"Alright," he said a tad gruffly. This was venturing way too close to chick-flick territory. "And what's your name mean?"

"'Shield of God,'" Cas replied. "I am an angel, and performed that duty well for centuries before, well, not."

"Hey," Dean said firmly. "God may not be personally involved anymore, but you've always been an angel who protected humanity. I'd say that lives up to the name pretty damn well."

"I suppose," Cas hedged. "So you can see why choosing a name is no simple matter."

Dean nodded to Ryn. "What about you?"

"My full name is Aderyn," she replied, then shrugged. "It means bird."

Fitting. Dean canted his head thoughtfully. "Rynstiel?"

"It's a kid, not a ship," Sam scowled.

Cas quirked a perplexed brow. "Of course the baby won't be a boat."

Dean nearly choked. "Yeah, you know what, that's enough name talk. And that's enough trying to figure out this beast." He nudged one of the crib slats with his boot. "Sam, pack it up and stuff it back in the box to return it, would ya? Ryn, up for a trip to the store to pick out another? Preferably one already assembled."

She smirked, and pushed herself up out of the chair. "Sure."

"Want us to bring anything else back?" Dean asked Sam and Cas. "Pizza for dinner?"

"Yeah, sure," Sam said absently, attention already back on his laptop.

"I'm good," Cas mumbled, eyeing the crib pieces and the empty box as though it were a bunch of square pegs and a round hole. Which was why Dean was bowing out of there.

"Alright, we'll be back," he said, snatching up his keys and heading up to the garage with Ryn.

They climbed into the Impala, but Dean waited for Ryn to put her seatbelt on before turning the key in the ignition. Only once she was buckled in did he pull out of the garage and onto the road. Lebanon was too small to have a superstore, so they'd head to the nearest big town in order to have more crib options to choose from.

"Hey, what do you want to decorate the nursery with?" he asked. "Aside from all the stuff Charlie already bought. I mean, you still don't _know_ what sex the baby is, so we don't have to run out and paint the walls pink or anything."

Ryn canted a musing look at him, an almost devious glint in her eye. Dean nearly groaned. He was really hoping they wouldn't have to do pink.

Ryn pressed her lips together in amusement. "You should see your face," she finally laughed. "And we don't have to paint the walls anything. You know, when I had my first child, we lived in a hut. His 'crib' was a basket."

Dean scrunched his face up at that. "Okay, well, we're in the 21st century now, and my niece or nephew is not sleeping in a basket." He was almost tempted to go back and try assembling that infernal contraption again, just on principle.

Almost.

When they arrived at the store, Dean waffled between parking in his usual preferred spot away from most of the other cars, and trying to fit in a space closer to the doors for Ryn's sake. He wondered if he could park right in front in the handicapped space. Pregnant woman, and all.

Ryn must have realized he was thinking it, because she shot him a dry look and pointed out a space more halfway down the aisle. There were two free, which meant that at any time while they were in the store, someone could come and park next to Baby close enough to ding her doors if there were any passengers getting out.

Dean tore himself away with effort. They'd just have to make this a quick in-and-out and not browse.

Thankfully, Ryn was not a picky shopper. Dean was the one who examined the crib displays for safety features and potential hazards before asking if Ryn liked this or that one. She said the first was good, so he grabbed it and carried it back toward the register. The clerk looked flustered when they approached.

"Um, weren't there any on the shelf?"

"We want this one," Dean said, plastering on a friendly and 'just-go-with-it-son' smile.

"Okay, well, there's a seventeen-dollar assembly fee."

"Fine." It was worth him not having to do it.

They headed for the doors, but as they swished open, some guy came barreling through and nearly bowled Ryn over. Dean would have had to drop the crib to intervene, but the stranger had quick reflexes and gripped her arm as she regained her balance.

"I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, watch it, buddy," Dean snapped.

"It's fine," Ryn said quickly.

The guy's hand lingered on her elbow anyway, his gaze averted downward and shielded by his ball-cap. "Oh, what are you having?" he asked, reaching his other hand out to touch her bulge.

Dean sputtered at the audacity, and wanted nothing more than to grab this guy's wrist and give it a good crack, but his own hands were full with the crib.

Ryn was much more patient, and simply extricated her arm from his grip and took a polite step back. "I think it's a girl," she answered.

Actually, now that Dean thought about it, that was a pretty loaded question. And then he was again trying to come up with a name—a Fawkes? It may have been from Harry Potter, but it sounded both bird-like and angel-y.

The guy tugged down the rim of his cap, still pretty much staring at his feet. He had worse social manners than Cas. "Sorry again," he mumbled, and awkwardly backed up to turn and shuffle away.

Dean narrowed his eyes after him. "Rude much? I mean, touching some random pregnant woman's belly? Who does that?"

Ryn let out a soft snort. "It happens a lot more than you think."

Dean was sure his expression was horrified. "Okay, well let's go before any more weirdos come out of the woodwork."

They exited the store, and Dean was relieved to see the space beside the Impala mercifully still empty, and so he was able to shove the crib into the backseat no problem. He was just about to get in the driver's seat when Ryn sucked in a sharp gasp.

"What, what is it?" Dean asked frantically, jogging around the back to find her clutching her stomach. "What's wrong?"

Ryn gave herself a small shake. "Nothing wrong. Just a kick. _Quite_ the kick," she chuckled. "Here." She reached for his hand.

"Oh, no, I don't- um, alright," he stammered as she positioned his palm across her belly. Crap, this was awkward.

He didn't even really feel anything, until he _did_ , and then he was jerking his hand back. "What the…you cooking a little Beckham in there?"

Ryn's eyes danced with unrestrained delight. "Mm, no. Both this little one's parents are fighters." Her lips tugged upward. "She's gonna be a warrior."

* * *

Hannah stood erect, chin up, arms loosely at her sides as she gazed at the pristine, sterile white walls of her 'office' in Heaven. After much hard work, order had been restored, the traffic of souls resumed, and the portal closely monitored for sanctioned travel to Earth only. And with the traitor Metatron dead, even if not at their will, there was also a ring of relief throughout the halls of Heaven. Everything was as it should be.

Almost.

The door opened, admitting Nahum. She watched his refracted reflection in the polished wall as the loyal soldier took up a place in the middle of the room and waited for acknowledgement. Hannah feared the news he brought, but knew she would have to face it inevitably. She turned around.

"What do you have?"

Nahum dipped his head respectfully, a gesture that looked slightly odd given his somewhat scrappy attire. "The offspring the Alpha phoenix is carrying continues to grow," he reported. "I was finally able to get close, and…" He hesitated, wringing a baseball cap in his hands.

Hannah braced herself. "And what?"

Nahum's throat bobbed. "It contains a grace signature."

She closed her eyes against a wave of horror. _Castiel, what have you done?_

She'd known something was suspect the day Heaven had united with the Winchesters and the King of Hell to beat back the Darkness before it could destroy the world. Hannah had seen how Castiel _touched_ that phoenix creature, how he looked at it as though it wore a crown of stars. She couldn't believe he would stoop to such a low, debase level.

But then, why not? He'd demeaned himself for the Winchesters often enough, even allied himself with demons before.

But _this_ …Hannah's stomach churned with revulsion. It was even more despicable and blasphemous than creating a nephilim with a human. She would have thought it impossible for _any_ angel, and certainly for Castiel, revered as a hero among angels, to even _contemplate_ such a sacrilegious sin.

She was finally beginning to see, however, why Castiel had always been marked with a black spot by the higher-ups, despite his skill and successes in battle and being given leadership of a garrison. Why he had been a frequent subject of Naomi's attentions. When Naomi's methods had been brought to light, Hannah had thought them too brutal for anyone, and that Castiel had never deserved such extreme torture. Now she understood that he _was_ an abomination at heart, and the only thing he was capable of was creating one even more heinous.

There was only one way to handle this.

"Prepare two teams," Hannah instructed. "One to go to Earth, and one for an aerial strike." She drew her shoulders back. "We can't allow the monstrosity to be born."


	7. Chapter 7

"Hey, Cas, you know all human languages, right?"

Castiel looked up from the book he was reading and turned toward Sam. "Yes. Do you need help with a translation?"

"Oh, no." The younger Winchester's mouth quirked almost shyly. "I was wondering if you could teach me sign language."

Castiel cocked his head in curiosity. "Of course. But why do you want to learn?" It didn't seem like something they'd use very often on cases.

"Because Sammy's got a girlfriend," Dean chimed in.

"She's not my girlfriend," Sam huffed.

Castiel glanced between the brothers. "Who's not?"

Sam heaved a sigh. "Remember the legacy we told you we met on that banshee case a few weeks ago? Eileen?"

"Yes. You said she's also a hunter. And deaf."

Sam nodded. "Well, we've been emailing, exchanging Men of Letters resources. And I figured that if we happened to run into each other on a case in the future…it'd, uh, be nice if I could communicate with her, in her language."

"Be sure to teach him how to say 'you're hot' and 'let's get a room,'" Dean said.

"Dude, what is wrong with you?" Sam scowled.

Ryn, who was lounging with a book in the plush chair in the corner, picked up an accent pillow off the floor and chucked it at Dean's head without looking. The pillow smacked him in the face, then fell into his lap. He didn't react for a beat, except to work his jaw as though he'd gotten cotton fibers in his mouth.

"Thank you," Sam directed to Ryn before turning back to Castiel. "I did take a class in college, but that was so long ago, I really only remember a few words."

"We can review the alphabet first," Castiel said.

Yet before he could begin, his vision abruptly blurred and a horrible screeching filled his head. Castiel shot his hands up to his temples, biting back a cry as it suddenly felt like his skull was on the verge of splitting.

_"Castiel,"_ an amplified chorus of voices resounded over angel radio. _"For the crimes you have committed against Heaven in conceiving an abomination with the phoenix creature, you are to submit to divine judgement. You both will surrender outside the Winchesters' bunker, or we are prepared to obliterate you in it, along with the entire state of Kansas."_

"Cas! Cas!"

Castiel sucked in a harsh gasp as the transmission cut off, leaving his head still ringing. He blinked furiously to clear his vision, and found Sam kneeling on the floor directly in front of him, hands on his forearms to keep him from falling out of his chair. Another blink, and he noticed Dean was on his right, gripping his shoulder. Ryn stood behind them, eyes wide and worried.

"Cas, hey," Sam's voice broke through his haze, and the younger Winchester gave him a small shake to snap him out of his stupor. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Angels," he gasped out, surging from his chair and almost throwing Sam flat on his ass. The hunter managed to catch himself on the edge of the table in time and haul himself to his feet. "Angels are right outside. They- they know about Ryn and the baby."

Dean's eyes widened. "What? How the hell did they even find out?"

Castiel shook his head. "I don't know."

But he _should_ have known the angels would discover it eventually. Either now or sometime after the baby was born. And of course they would view the child as an intolerable abomination that needed to be destroyed, just as Castiel had at first.

"Okay, well, the bunker's warded," Dean said, donning his take-charge tone that was gearing up for a fight. "None of them are getting in here."

"They are prepared to deliver a mass smiting like they did against the Darkness," Castiel informed them, turning to meet Ryn's eyes with nothing but terror in his heart. "And destroy Kansas if we don't surrender."

Sam sputtered. "What? They can't do that!"

"They will," Castiel said grimly. And he couldn't allow it to happen.

"Well, we can talk to them," Sam urged. "Convince them the baby isn't a threat to anyone."

Castiel shook his head. "They won't listen, and there's no time. Dean, Sam, get Ryn out of here. I'll hold the angels off long enough for you to escape."

Dean blanched. "Cas, no."

"Yes." He turned and gripped Dean's arm hard. "Keep them safe," he pleaded.

"No," Ryn snapped, shoving her way forward to take his face in her hands. "I am not leaving you."

The bunker began to shake, and alarms started blaring as the map table in the war room suddenly lit up with flashing red lights.

Castiel's heart constricted, and he spared a split second to drink in Ryn's fiery passion and steadfast courage one last time. "You have to."

He pushed her into Dean's arms.

"Cas," Sam stammered. "We'll never make it if they're going to smite the entire state."

"They won't," he said. "Get in the car and give me five minutes. Then run."

"Cas, what are you gonna do?" Dean pressed, fear evident in his voice.

"What I said, hold them off." He turned toward the corridor, only to stop and pivot back around to press his mouth to Ryn's. "I will try to find you," he promised. If he was able.

Castiel tore himself away and broke into a run down the hallway toward the archive rooms. Back when he had been avoiding his problems by spending a week in there, he'd discovered an object that had been tucked into a box of miscellaneous items the Men of Letters had suspected as being important, but didn't know how—a Hand of God.

He couldn't fault the supernatural scholars for overlooking such a powerful object, as all they would have seen were the ancient remains of a male's hip bone. Their notes even indicated their skepticism that it held any value, but they'd saved it because local stories from where they'd acquired it insisted the item was deadly and sacred.

And it was. Castiel only had to brush past it to sense the power signature within. One night in the wilderness, Jacob had wrestled with God, and God had touched his hip to dislocate it. Somehow that bone had found its way into the Men of Letters bunker. But since the Darkness had already been dealt with and such immense power no longer needed, Castiel had filed it away.

Now, it would help him save his family.

He snatched it off the shelf, keeping it wrapped in its canvas cover as he made his way back through the bunker and up the stairs to the front door. He burst outside into a squall, wind thrashing violently through the trees and whipping his coat about his legs. Castiel veered around the bunker's opening and began to ascend the mound, having to claw his fingers into the soil to keep from being blown back down.

He staggered onto the rise as the clouds directly above churned into a gathering vortex. Letting the protective cloth get ripped away in the gales, Castiel clutched his hand around the hip bone, activating its power. The Hand of God began to glow, and burning energy poured down into Castiel's hand and up his arm like molten lava. It zinged through his grace and swelled to ten times his normal capacity.

The heavens began to glow with the same measure of summoned power, prepared to unleash its divine wrath. Castiel thrust the Hand of God high in the air, and shot a beam of light into the cyclone. The sky cracked and thundered, golden hues rippling out through the storm clouds as power collided in Heaven. Castiel poured every ounce of that power into neutralizing the angel smiting.

After several long moments, the Hand of God fizzed out, and the last of its power erupted from Castiel's hand with a whoosh. He staggered, and twisted his head up to see if he had succeeded. The vortex was gone, clouds petering out in fading wisps. The wind died down.

He nearly sagged in relief.

The familiar rumble of the Impala's engine echoed up to his ears, and Castiel looked out over the road to watch it speed away in the distance, safe.

His respite was short-lived, for a handful of angels bearing angel blades climbed up the mound and surrounded him. Castiel dropped his blade into his hand, prepared to fight even though the odds were against him.

"Brothers, please…" he tried, but they attacked. Castiel parried one blow and ducked under another. He did not want to kill his brethren, and tried to slash out at nonfatal areas to disable them instead.

But he was outnumbered. He thrust his blade up to block, celestial alloy grating as the hilts locked. Another angel moved in to grab his other arm and wrench it behind his back. A third solider put their blade to his throat, and Castiel froze. He had lost.

His blade was pried from his grip, and then that arm was torqued painfully behind him and someone else grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat even more to the blade pressed against it. He was then yanked around to face another angel in a male vessel who was walking calmly up the hill.

"Hannah," Castiel gritted out through clenched teeth. "I can explain."

She just shook her head as she roved her gaze over him in loathing and disgust. "There is nothing to say, Castiel. Except where the Winchesters have taken the abomination."

Castiel could barely move, but he managed to lift his chin a fraction in defiance. He would never give them up.

Hannah's eyes flashed with fury. "Fine. Bring him."

The fist in his hair released him, but a black hood was thrown over his head a second later and the cold bite of steel clamped around his wrists. Castiel's grace instantly dimmed under the power of the Enochian sigils, and as he was roughly manhandled down the side of the hill, his heart fractured at the knowledge that he wouldn't be able to keep the last promise he had made to his family.

* * *

Sam kept ducking his head to look through the sideview mirror at the distant sky behind them, watching as the last of the storm clouds gradually dissipated. Whatever Cas had done, he'd managed to stop the imminent mass smiting, save the town, county, and state. That didn't ease the feeling of dread gripping Sam's heart, though.

"Turn the car around," Ryn demanded.

"Can't do that," Dean responded gruffly, keeping the speedometer revving at ninety miles per hour as they careened down the highway.

"Dammit, Dean, I am not an invalid. I can still fight!"

Sam flicked a nervous look over his shoulder into the backseat, catching a gleam of reflected light stirring in Ryn's pupils. He didn't even want to think about what bursting into flames would do to the baby.

"Those are angels back there," he said, unable to keep the bite of hatred out of his tone. "They will kill you on sight, you understand that? And they have weapons that can do it, too. Think about the baby."

Ryn shook her head, eyes glistening. "They will _kill_ him."

Sam looked at his brother as Dean's jaw jerked with barely contained rage and helpless fury. Cas had bought them the time they'd needed to escape, knowingly sacrificing himself in the process. Unless he'd somehow managed to get away, evade the angels that'd probably be on the ground outside the bunker. Sam reached for his phone and pulled up his GPS tracking app. His pulse stuttered.

"Cas's phone is moving."

"What?" Dean whipped his head to the side. "You think he got away?"

Sam's mouth tightened as he watched the red blip traveling much too quickly to be someone on foot, and in the opposite direction they themselves were headed. "I- I don't know. I don't think so."

Ryn leaned forward against the bench seat. "We have to go back."

"No," Dean adamantly maintained. "I promised Cas I'd keep you safe."

"Safe's kinda out the window, don't you think?" she rejoined.

Sam shot his brother a strained look; she kinda had a point there. The bunker was the most secure place on the planet—or so they'd thought. They obviously couldn't go back there now, so where the hell were they supposed to go?

Sam returned his attention to his phone, watching until the red dot finally came to a stop in an area where he knew there was nothing but old abandoned buildings. Heart sinking in resignation, Sam tilted his phone for Dean to see. His brother's throat bobbed, and Sam knew what he was thinking: either Cas had somehow gotten his hands on a vehicle and was now taking cover somewhere isolated…or he'd been brought out to a location where no one would hear any screams.

"Okay," Dean said, wringing his hands around the steering wheel. "We need to stash Ryn somewhere safe and then go back for Cas."

"I can go with you," she persisted.

"No, no," Dean shot down. "Cas gave himself up so you could get away. You are not getting anywhere _near_ another angel."

Sam fisted his hands in his lap. "Crowley," he ground out.

Dean flashed him a bewildered look. "What?"

Sam didn't like it, not at all, but they didn't have many options at the moment. "The only place pretty much guaranteed not to have any angels is with the King of Hell."

Dean looked stunned at the idea, or maybe because it was Sam suggesting it. "Yeah, you're right."

He immediately pulled the Impala over on the side of the highway and got out. Sam and Ryn followed, Sam scanning the area to make sure they didn't have any mooks on their trail. They were lucky the angels never got their wings back; otherwise they'd have been done for.

Dean had Crowley on speed dial, which still irked Sam a bit. But the demon had come through for them with the Darkness. Actually, it seemed as though he came through for them a lot more often than their 'good allies.' And right now they needed that kind of reliability.

"Crowley," Dean said. "Highway 281, mile marker 193. It's urgent."

Crowley appeared a split second later, no arguments, no fuss, phone still pressed to his ear. Maybe he wanted to deliver a snarky retort in person, but the instant his eyes landed on Ryn, whatever he'd been about to say floundered soundlessly on gaping lips.

"You boys are worth more than a soap opera," he finally managed. "Which one of you cheating swine knocked up your best friend's girl?"

"It's Cas's, alright?" Dean snapped, gesturing protectively at Ryn.

Crowley's brows rose sharply. "Is it now? Well, that's even more delightful. Where is Feathers?"

"The angels found out and now all of Heaven is after us," Sam explained.

Crowley paused for a beat. "I see," he mused.

"Sam and I need to go get him," Dean said. "But we need to stash Ryn somewhere safe."

Sam didn't think it was possible for the King of Hell to look more flabbergasted.

"And you naturally thought of me. I'm touched. Does this make me Uncle Crowley now?"

"What? No!" Dean scowled.

"Will you help us or not?" Sam demanded.

Crowley angled a considering look at Ryn. "Alright. My lair is warded against everything imaginable. Not even the angels will find you there."

Sam blinked dubiously. That was…unexpected. They hadn't even had to talk him into it with threats or bribes.

Ryn crossed her arms and glared at him. "And what do you want in return?"

A muscle in Sam's cheek ticked; he hadn't been letting himself ask that question…because they were pretty much desperate enough to do anything Crowley wanted. And the longer they delayed here, the greater chance that Cas could be caught and killed, if he hadn't been already.

"Nothing," the demon said blithely, eliciting a suspicious look from Sam.

"Nothing?" he repeated.

"Nothing as of this moment," Crowley clarified. "But I scratch your back, you scratch mine. It's what allies do, isn't it?"

Sam gritted his teeth. It wasn't a binding contract, which was probably the best they were going to get.

"Yeah," Dean said, then gestured for Ryn to go with the demon.

Ryn's mouth was pressed into a thin line of displeasure, but she forced herself to walk forward and move to stand next to Crowley, meeting the Winchesters' eyes earnestly. "Bring him back."

Sam nodded. "We will," he promised.

Crowley typed something out on his phone, and a second later Dean's own pinged. "There's the address. Try not to bring the dogs on your heels." With that, he placed a hand on Ryn's arm and disappeared with her.

Sam really hoped they'd just done the right thing. But as Ryn had said, she wasn't a weakling to be taken advantage of. Sam figured that if Crowley did decide to try anything, she'd barbecue him faster than a chicken wing.

Sam looked over his brother's shoulder at the text Crowley had sent. The 'lair' was in Massachusetts. Damn, that was gonna take them a while to get to, even if they tracked Cas down within the next hour. But, at least it meant Ryn and the baby were far away from the angels' reach.

Sam met Dean's gaze, and they exchanged a staunch nod. Time to get Cas back.


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel threw his head back and screamed as Jonah inserted an angel blade all the way through his pectoral muscle until the tip punched through the flesh near his shoulder blade. Dangling from chains with his hands hoisted above his head, Castiel's arms were pulled taut, making the muscles in his shoulder spasm under the assault of the blade, which only sent fresh bursts of pain erupting around the edges of the thing skewering him.

Jonah took his time withdrawing it, and Castiel couldn't hold back another long, drawn out cry until the blade was all the way out, and then he was left panting as he hung limply, the metal handcuffs cutting into the bruised flesh of his wrists.

He had no idea how long they had been torturing him. Long enough for his voice to have grown hoarse from screaming. His shirt was ripped and bloodied from several slashes. Hot blood was seeping down his pant leg from another stab wound in his hip, and his back was on fire from the scores that had been delivered with the searing bite of celestial steel.

"Where are the Winchesters?" Efram asked from where he stood to the side, arms crossed as he casually watched.

"I don't know," Castiel gasped.

Jonah placed the bloody angel blade to his cheek, and Castiel's ragged breaths increased in anticipation of the pain before Jonah sliced down. To his shame, Castiel screamed again, the hot burn of grace fizzling from the cut like a fire brand.

"Where are the Winchesters, Castiel?" Efram asked again.

"Mercy, brother, please!" he cried.

"Brother?" Efram repeated dubiously. "Hah! What are you?"

Castiel blinked owlishly, pain and blood loss making his head swim. "W-what?" What kind of question was that? "I'm an angel of the Lord," he rasped.

Efram raised his brows. "That so?" He stalked closer, Jonah stepping back to make room. "'Cause, near as I can tell, when you have to choose between Heaven, and the Winchesters…"

"You choose them," Jonah finished.

"Every time." Efram's lip curled up in disgust. "And now this… _monstrosity_. So, see, you're not my brother."

Hot tears leaked from the corners of Castiel's eyes to run through the cuts on his face, adding more burning pain and humiliation to his degradation.

"And if I had it my way," Efram continued, setting the length of his angel blade over Castiel's chest and beginning to drag it down only a fraction at a time in pace with his next words: "I'd take this blade, stick it in your heart…and call that a damn good day."

Castiel's grunts of pain were forced out between tightly clenched teeth as he waited for the fresh searing to fade to a minor sting. "Then do it!" he gritted out in a surge of overwhelming despair and agony. He couldn't take anymore…

The tip of Efram's blade was poised at the bottom of Castiel's ribcage. A single thrust upward would pierce his heart, finishing the deed. Castiel didn't want to die; he had too much to live for. But he was in so much pain…

Efram pursed his mouth. "Nah." He lowered the blade. "The fun's just getting started." He stepped back and nodded to Jonah, who strode forward and plunged his blade into Castiel's stomach, filling the dingy dungeon with a flare of blue nova. Castiel's screams reverberated off the walls.

Jonah yanked the blade out, and as the light from his latest wound faded, Castiel's head lolled to the side, catching a glimpse of Hannah standing by the door, arms hugging herself and expression pinched as though this entire business pained her.

"H-Hannah," he whispered, vocal cords torn to shreds. "Hannah, please. We…we were friends."

She finally turned to face him, face slackening in astonishment. "Friends? You are a traitor to Heaven, Castiel. A scourge on everything we are and stand for. Did you once stop and think about how your actions would affect us? Your _family_?" She let out a contemptuous sound. "I know you didn't; you never do."

"That- that's not true," he gasped, heart breaking at her accusations, because he'd only ever tried to _help_ his angelic brothers and sisters. He'd made mistakes, yes, but…but it had never been out of selfish ambition or cruelty. Not like…not like some others.

Hannah walked over and came to stand before him. "It doesn't matter, Castiel. The angels hate you. For what you've done, what you are. Now, where are the Winchesters?"

Castiel closed his eyes and tipped his head back, a swell of grief clogging his throat. "I don't know," he whispered. "But you have me to punish, let that be enough. Aderyn and the child are innocent."

He prayed then, begged and pleaded to anyone that was listening, that they would be spared. Let the angels kill him, or even imprison him in Metatron's old cell for eternity, as long as the rest of his real family were safe…

But Castiel knew that wouldn't happen. It would never happen. The angels would never stop until they had found the Winchesters, Ryn, and the baby—and slaughtered them all in the name of Heaven's swift justice.

"None of them are innocent," Hannah said darkly, confirming his fear. "That spawn of _Eve_ is a monster. And the thing it's carrying is even worse." Her eyes suddenly turned soft with regret, and she reached up to place a gentle hand on the side of his face. "Have you been bewitched, Castiel? Is that what this is? Say it is and we can set you free from it."

"I can't say what isn't true," he ground out.

Hannah's eyes turned to steel again, and she stepped back. "You've fallen so far, you can't even see it. I almost pity you, Castiel."

She moved away to a nearby table where they had tossed his trench coat and suit jacket after depriving him of them before they'd strung him up. Fishing through the pockets, she eventually pulled out his cell phone. "Dean Winchester, first in your most frequently contacted. Why am I not surprised?"

Castiel's heart seized. "What are you doing?"

Hannah tapped a button on the screen and held the phone up to her ear.

"Hannah, no—"

Jonah stepped in and delivered an iron-fisted blow to his gut, punching the air from his diaphragm and leaving him in a fit of dry heaves. By the time it stopped enough for him to focus on what else was happening, Hannah was already delivering her ultimatum over the phone.

"We have no interest in you, if you turn the phoenix over. Stand against the will of Heaven, and your names will be blotted out from the Book of Life for all eternity, your souls earmarked for a one-way trip to Hell."

"Hannah," Castiel gasped. "Please don't do this."

She shot him a scathing look. "I warned you, Castiel." Then she turned back to the phone. "What will it be?"

Castiel couldn't hear the response on the other end of the line, but he knew in his heart what either Winchester would say, and he felt his heart crack under the surety of their loyalty. Because it meant that they would die, and be sent to damnation.

Hannah hung up and tossed the phone onto the table with the coats, shoulders heaving with barely contained fury. She waved to Efram. "Time to try another approach."

Castiel tensed, terrified of what the next step of torture might be that could be worse than what they'd already dished out. He wasn't prepared for the item Efram came back with, and Castiel's blood froze in his veins.

Hannah took the metal helmet with its pins and screws, and then Efram and Jonah were hoisting Castiel down from the chains. His knees buckled, unable to even contemplate fight or flight as he was dragged over to a chair and shoved into it. His wrists were deftly uncuffed—not that the brief flare of released grace was enough to heal his wounds or infuse his ruined body with the strength to resist—and then his wrists were being lashed to the arms of the chair.

Hannah stepped forward with the brain-hacking device. "I regret the necessity of this, Castiel. But you leave us no choice."

He tried to wrench away, but Efram and Jonah grabbed his face and chin to hold him still as Hannah placed the helmet on his head and tightened the strap to a secure fit.

"No!" he begged. _Not this_.

Jonah picked up a handful of screws and studied the various holes in the metal band as though unable to decide where to start first. He finally leaned forward and inserted one of the needle-like rods into Castiel's temple. Lightning went off in his skull, and he let out a guttural scream.

"We will find them one way or the other," Hannah said.

Jonah moved around to the other side and drove another spike into Castiel's brain, ripping another scream from his tattered throat. The tendons in his hands popped out as he clutched at the armrests, splinters digging into the skin underneath his fingernails.

Hannah's voice grew muffled under the white noise of agony as the last audible sounds trickled through his ears. "And maybe we'll finally accomplish what Naomi had failed to…"

* * *

Dean angrily threw his phone on top of the dash after Hannah had hung up on him. Those bastards. Dean was going to kill them all. Every last angel in Heaven if he had to.

"Cas's GPS still transmitting?" he asked Sam.

His brother's eyes were glued to his own phone as he continued to track the signal in Cas's cell. "Yeah. Guess the angels aren't that tech savvy to realize we can trace it."

Dean let out a derisive snort. "They're just plain stupid all around."

Like threatening to _ban_ the Winchesters from Heaven was gonna get them to turn on Cas and Ryn. Who the hell did those dickbags think they were, anyway? And as far as Dean was concerned, he didn't even want to end up upstairs under the thumbs of those douches for the rest of eternity. There were probably some angels who'd give them grief once they were there, too, just out of spite. And yeah, Dean would regret not getting to see some people again, like Mom and Dad, Bobby, if possible. But he had a family on Earth right here and now, and he wasn't trading them for anything or anyone. Hannah could go screw herself.

Besides, ending up in Hell probably wouldn't be that bad at this point, as crazy as that sounded. Crowley might even give them a nice suite or something. They all knew the King of Hell didn't really want either Winchester getting turned into a demon again…so the torture track would be off the table. As long as Cas and Ryn were safe, Dean would gladly accept that kind of fate. And Sam had, with a stout, silent look when Hannah had delivered the ultimatum, declared his fervent agreement.

Dean glanced at his brother's phone, trying to gauge how far away they were. They'd had to pull over and do some creative rigging with their weapons so they'd be able to take on an unknown number of angels, since they wouldn't be able to use any angel banishing sigils; they couldn't risk blasting Cas away too. But it had delayed them getting to him that much faster. They needed to be smart and prepared, though, if they were gonna make this rescue quick and successful. And that was the goal, here, not going in guns blazing, not instigating a bigger fight, and _not_ getting themselves killed in the process.

The car was mostly silent, save for the roar of the engine devouring the highway as they sped toward Cas's location. Dean was one big knot of coiled, vibrating tension, hoping they wouldn't be too late.

"So," Sam started quietly. "After we get Cas back…what are we gonna do?"

A lump settled in Dean's throat, and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Right, because they couldn't go back to the bunker. They had no place to go, really, save for the King of Hell's evil lair, and even that wouldn't do for the long-term; that was no place to raise a baby.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But we've been on the run from Heaven before."

Also not a good environment to raise a kid in… Dean's heart clenched with grief over the loss of their home. He'd lived so long on the road, most of his adolescent and adult life, and the bunker had been…so much more than just a central base. Yes, dammit, he had nested there. And to have that ripped from him was just another heartbreaking blow.

But Dean shoved the morose feelings down. The bunker was home because of the family who lived in it, not because it had separate bedrooms, a kitchen, and a garage for the Impala. And there was still a chance, however small, that they might get to go back one day…if they survived.

They finally pulled up outside an old, abandoned slaughter house. Dean put the car in park and shut off the engine. For a moment, they simply scanned the area, then glanced at Sam's phone to confirm the source of Cas's signal. Definitely inside, but there were no sentries out front. The cocky bastards probably didn't think they were needed. They should have learned by now not to underestimate Winchesters.

"Let's do this." Dean pushed his door open and climbed out, Sam following suit. Double checking their guns, they exchanged a resolute look, and started toward the building.

They were just outside the door when a horrendous, guttural scream sounded from within that turned Dean's blood to ice. Sam's nostrils flared with fury, and he yanked the door open. Dean swept inside first.

His heart seized at the sight of Cas, strapped to a chair, with that _brain hacking_ device on his head. Blood was streaming down his face, and another cry tore from his throat as one of the angels standing over him jammed a spike through the center of his forehead. Two other angels looked on, one of them Hannah in that male vessel still. None of them had even heard the Winchesters enter over Cas's tortured cries.

"Get the hell away from him," Dean snarled, aiming his gun. Sam spread out a few more feet to cover a wider angle.

All three angels jolted in surprise and stared at them in bewilderment. The one who looked like a college frat boy took a step forward and scoffed. "Really? You should know better than to bring puny mortal guns to a fight with angels. Those won't hurt us."

Dean cocked his head and cracked his face into a smirk, taking a moment to savor that it was the last thing this smug douchebag would ever see. And then he squeezed the trigger at the same time as Sam.

As the bullets fired from the chambers, they exploded in a spurt of fire that zinged straight toward their targets, hitting the two lackey angels dead center. Both of them jerked from the impacts, expressions slackening in a brief look of confusion before flames burst from the holes in their chests, and then they were arching their backs and screaming. Hannah scrambled backwards in horror.

Blazing blue light mixed with fire shot out of the angels' eyes and mouth, and with one final explosion, they fell in a heap on the floor, ash drifting around them from charred wing prints.

Hannah turned toward the Winchesters, mouth gaping open in disbelief and shock.

Dean smiled and tilted his gun so some of the dim light in the dungeon caught the glistening barrel. "Nice, huh? Dipped the barrels in holy oil. Add a nice little spark from the chamber, and poof." He aimed the gun and shot Hannah in the leg.

She screamed and clutched at her thigh as she went crashing to the floor, flames licking up around the wound and over her fingers. It wasn't a fatal hit, though.

Dean and Sam quickly tucked their guns away and rushed over to Cas, who had stopped screaming but was staring blankly at the space in front of him. Dean's heart stuttered at the sheer amount of blood he was drenched in.

"Cas? Cas, hey buddy, we're here." Dean frantically fumbled at the leather straps lashing Cas's wrists to the chair while Sam started carefully removing the spikes rammed into his head. Oh god…

Cas didn't react to them, not until Sam pulled the last spike out from his forehead, and then his face scrunched up in a grunting scream.

"Sorry, sorry!" Sam gushed. "That was the last one." He pulled the metal helmet off Cas's head and chucked it across the room.

Dean unclasped the other restraint, and then ducked down to catch Cas's gaze. Cas's eyes had glazed over, and his eyelids were drifting closed and open again in long, slow blinks. "Cas?" He pressed a hand to the side of Cas's bloodied face. "Cas?" He didn't get a response.

"We need to go," Sam said, voice tight with worry.

"There is nowhere you can run," Hannah gritted out. "Heaven will not abide the abomination."

Dean whirled around, storming over and delivering a brutal kick to the angel's gut. "It's not an abomination! It's a baby. A friggin' _baby_. It hasn't done anything wrong. It hasn't even been born yet!"

"Its very existence is a crime!" Hannah seethed between pained wheezes.

Dean almost pulled his gun to shoot her in the face, but managed to hold himself back. Even after everything she had done to Cas, he would probably still _mourn_ the bitch if Dean killed her. So he would let her go.

"Call off Heaven's dogs," he warned.

Her lip curled up. "Or what?"

Dean crouched down to look her straight in the eye. "You want to declare war on us? Fine. But remember that we put Michael and Lucifer in the Cage. We took out the head Leviathan, and the last Knight of Hell. Keep coming after us, and we will burn you down. All of you."

"Dean," Sam called urgently.

He pushed himself up and turned his back on her. Sam had pulled Cas over his shoulders in a fireman's carry, cheeks puffing under the exertion. Dean spotted Cas's coats and his phone on a nearby table, and snatched them up on their way out. He and Sam got Cas into the backseat of the Impala, and then they were gunning it out of there before the wrath of Heaven could rain down upon them.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam kept twisting around to look into the backseat at Cas. They'd hastily thrown his coats over him in their rush to get away, and now Sam couldn't see his face, turned down and half covered. There was so much blood. It'd transferred to Sam's clothes when he'd carried Cas out of that slaughter house, and now his shoulders and back were damp with it.

"We're gonna have to stop somewhere," he said.

Dean craned a look over his shoulder, jaw tightening. "I want to put a little more distance between us and them," was all he said, and Sam didn't argue.

It was a twenty-four-hour drive to Crowley's lair in Massachusetts, and there was no way Cas could make it on a straight shot, not in his condition. He hadn't roused at their rescue, hadn't seemed to know they were even there, and that left a knot of dread in the pit of Sam's stomach.

After half an hour of barreling down back roads and empty highways at three times over the speed limit, Dean finally pulled off into one of the seediest motels they'd ever seen. The parking lot had more cracks and weeds than it did pavement, windows were oxidized and browned out, and there were broken beer bottles scattered around the building. It was the kind of place that didn't ask questions, which would serve their needs right now.

Sam stayed in the car with Cas while Dean went to get a room key, his gaze darting nervously between the lifeless angel in the backseat and the surrounding tree line, half expecting an army of angels to descend on them. But they'd gotten away clean, and he had to remember that both he and Dean had that Enochian warding on their ribs from back in the days of the first Apocalypse, so the angels couldn't track them. The Impala had similar markings under the upholstery, and once they got inside the room, they'd throw some slapdash sigils on the walls to ensure they were concealed in there as well.

Sam couldn't stop fidgeting, though, anxious to get Cas inside where they could take stock of the damage. It looked…bad.

Dean finally came jogging back out, a leather fob for a key bouncing in one hand. Sam exited the car and opened the back door, crouching down to squeeze Cas's shoulder. His heart dropped into his stomach when Cas's head simply lolled back to gaze up at him, pupils dilated and unresponsive.

"Come on, Cas," Sam coaxed, even as he had to bodily haul the completely limp angel out and hoist him over his shoulder again. Who knew how many wounds got jarred in that process, but Cas didn't make a single sound.

Dean scanned the area for prying eyes as he hurried to the room and unlocked it, pushing the door in and stepping aside so Sam could carry Cas in. The single bed's comforter was stained with a myriad of splotches and cigarette burns, but it had to be better than what was probably on the sheets, so Sam didn't bother flipping the cover over before easing Cas down onto the bed as gently as possible. He clasped the sides of the angel's head, turning his face toward him.

"Cas, can you hear me?"

Cas's eyelids closed lethargically, opened, then slid shut again, like he was having trouble staying awake…or falling asleep. Trapped in some dazed in-between state. Sam straightened and backed up, running a hand down his face; he had no idea how he was supposed to help his friend. He remembered after that brain hacking device had been used on him to expel Gadreel, and how confused he'd been afterward, not to mention having a bitch of a headache for a while. But he hadn't been catatonic. What if whatever the angels had done to Cas had caused permanent damage?

Dean came in with their supplies from the trunk and slammed the door shut. He immediately grabbed a can of spray paint from one of the duffels, shook it, and proceeded to mark up the door. Sam took a deep breath, and steeled himself to start unbuttoning Cas's shirt and reveal exactly what they were dealing with.

He knew what to expect, but he still had to stop and inhale sharply at the various lacerations scored across Cas's torso, along with the handful of deep puncture wounds. The angels had been so thoroughly brutal and ruthless in the short time they'd had Cas in their clutches. When Sam rolled Cas up just a bit to peel the ruined shirt off, he realized that the hole high in his shoulder went all the way through, and that there were half a dozen slashes across his back. A patch of red was already seeping into the motel bedcover.

Sam's throat burned with the acidic tang of revulsion and helpless fury. As he peeled Cas's shirt off the rest of the way, he noticed Dean standing in front of the marked door, a chilling look in his eyes.

"I should have killed that bitch," he said in a low, dark tone that Sam hadn't heard since the days when Dean bore the Mark of Cain. Thing was, Sam understood exactly how his brother was feeling in this moment—and was wishing the same.

"Two of them are dead," he said quietly. And would never touch Cas again.

Dean looked as though it wasn't enough, but he moved in, and together they stripped Cas of his slacks, counting yet another stab wound lower in his hip to add to the list. With wordless, synchronized fluidity that came from years of hunting together and patching each other up afterward, they set out the bandages, salve, thread, and needles. Dean brought out a bottle of whiskey to disinfect with, and they started with the shoulder that was a through-and-through. Something like that normally would have needed an actual hospital, but that wasn't an option, and they were both hoping that Cas's angelic healing would kick in. At some point…

The score marks across his back were mostly shallow, so they ended up packing medicated gauze underneath him and focusing on cleaning and stitching the stab wounds in front, which was a long and arduous process. Cas's eyes remained vacant slits the entire time. Sam didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified that he couldn't seem to feel anything.

When they'd finished those, Dean moved on to stitching one of the deeper slash marks, while Sam leaned over Cas's head and examined the pin holes in his skull. Rivulets of dried blood left crimson streaks down his face and sticky, matted clumps in his hair. Sam grabbed a wipe and gently dabbed at one of the holes. When he'd pulled those pins from Cas's brain, some had been stained red over an inch deep.

_"Come on, Cas, come back to us,"_ he prayed.

It took him a long time to clean all the blood out of Cas's hair, long enough for Dean to completely stitch the long gash cut diagonally across Cas's chest. Sam probably could have gone about it more vigorously and gotten it done faster, especially since it didn't seem to be causing Cas any pain, but he couldn't bring himself to be anything but utterly careful with their wounded friend.

He cleaned the rest of the blood from Cas's face and put a couple of butterfly bandages on the cut on his cheek, and was just about to move back and help Dean finish the torso when Cas finally stirred, his head lolling a fraction to the side. Sam froze, and held his breath as he met Cas's eyes, praying for some measure of lucidity. Blue irises shimmered with dazed pain and confusion.

"Sam?" he whispered hoarsely.

Sam could have collapsed from relief. "Yeah, buddy, it's me," he breathed. "Dean's here too."

Cas didn't react to that, or try to move his head in search of the other Winchester brother.

Sam swallowed uncertainly. "How are you feeling?"

Cas gazed back at him, pupils not quite focusing. Sam felt his chest hitch with a new wave of crushing fear, and he reached out to rest a comforting hand on the top of Cas's head, trying to provide some kind of tactile anchor.

Cas's brows pinched just slightly. "I'm cold."

Sam frowned. "Okay, yeah…" They'd stripped Cas down to his boxers in order to reach all the wounds. "Dean and I are still patching you up, but, uh…"

"Here," Dean injected, having gotten up the second Cas said he was cold and gone to pull a blanket out of their bags. Now he spread it out over Cas's legs, pretty much the only part of him the angels hadn't torn into, and tucked the ends under his feet. "We'll get you some nice warm clothes as soon as we finish bandaging these, okay?"

Cas shifted his eyes a millimeter toward where Dean now stood at the foot of the bed, expression furrowing another fraction as though he hadn't realized there was a third person in the room—and wasn't sure he recognized him.

Sam bit his lip and exchanged a worried look with his brother, who was doing his best not to let his devastation show. There was so much wrong here, Sam didn't even know where to begin.

But…this _was_ improvement; Cas had known who Sam was, after all. He just needed some time, just needed to recover from the shock and trauma of what he'd just been through. And then he'd be fine.

Without another word, Sam and Dean resumed the last of the stitching. And while it was a good sign that Cas was starting to come back to them, the returning lucidity was also increasing his awareness of pain, and he started letting out small whimpers and choked moans the more they worked, especially when Dean started on his left wrist, which was a mess of raw and tattered flesh.

"Almost done, Cas," Dean promised. "Just hang in there."

"Do we have any morphine?" Sam asked.

Dean hesitated. "I'd rather not give him any of the strong stuff until he knows his own name."

A muscle in Sam's jaw jerked, but he didn't necessarily disagree. Mercifully, they really were almost done, and then it was only a matter of cleaning all the blood off and taping bandages over the stab wounds and wrapping Cas's wrists. Dean pulled out a pair of sweats from his bag and a flannel shirt and zip-up sweatshirt from Sam's, as the larger size would be more loose fitting over the wounds.

"Okay, buddy," Dean coaxed, "we're gonna get you in something warm, okay?"

Cas's eyelids fluttered up at him. "Dean?"

The look of sheer relief on Dean's face in that moment had to have mirrored Sam's, and he plastered on a bright, encouraging smile. "That's me. Don't try to move, alright? Sam and me will do the work."

They slipped the sweats on first, since those were easiest, and then Dean slid an arm under Cas's shoulder blades and eased him upright. Cas grunted and bit back a cry as Dean leaned him forward. Sam climbed onto the bed next to Cas and braced him from the front as Dean repositioned the gauze from earlier and taped it down. Once done, he grabbed the shirt and manipulated one arm through a sleeve, and then went around to the opposite side to do the other. Cas was still pretty much dead weight in Sam's arms, but remained conscious, even though the process left him raggedly panting by the time they laid him back down.

Sam and Dean stepped back to regroup near the door, now that the work was done.

"What do you wanna do?" Sam quietly asked.

Dean was silent for a long moment before replying in an equally soft volume, "I want him somewhere safe and completely off the radar as soon as possible."

Sam nodded. That meant dragging him halfway across the country in his condition. "We can stop at a hospital, grab something stronger than the morphine," he said. Now that Cas was showing more cognitive function. "But yeah, I think we should get to Crowley's sooner rather than later."

He never thought he'd hear himself say that. But that's where Ryn was, and Sam would feel better once the four of them were together again. Easier to look after each other that way.

"Alright," Dean agreed. "You gonna change first?"

Sam glanced at the blood stains on his sleeves. "Yeah." He wouldn't even bother showering in this rat hole, and so simply used a rag and water bottle to clean up any residue on his skin before changing into a clean shirt. His pants were okay.

Meanwhile, Dean gathered up their bloody articles and stuffed them in a large plastic bag. Sam had no idea if Cas's clothes were salvageable, but they'd keep them anyway. Dean also gathered up the trash from all the suturing, and tossed it in the room's garbage can and set it on fire. Then he and Sam packed up their stuff and took everything back out to the Impala. Getting Cas out required more effort, as he couldn't even walk, and Sam didn't want to throw him over his shoulder again.

Dean ended up backing the car right up to the door, and then he and Sam carried Cas out to the backseat, which Dean had padded with blankets and a wadded up jacket as a pillow. Once Cas was settled, Sam climbed into the passenger side as Dean ran up front to return the key. He was back less than a minute later, and they were finally ready to get on the road.

"Cas, hey," Dean said after he'd slid behind the wheel, and glanced over his shoulder. "Try to sleep for a bit, okay?"

"Okay," Cas murmured.

Dean turned the key in the ignition and started up the engine.

"Dean?" Cas mumbled.

He twisted back around. "Yeah?"

"Is Ryn here?"

Dean glanced at Sam, whose gut tightened with worry.

"We'll see her soon," Dean replied, putting the car in gear. "Just close your eyes."

Sam looked back to see Cas's eyelids finally drifting shut and staying that way. Hopefully he'd actually be able to get some rest. Because they had a long drive ahead of them…and weren't out of the woods yet.

* * *

Ryn paced the length of her 'guest accommodations,' which were rather ornate considering they were set inside a decommissioned asylum. The stone architecture made it look like a castle, and the furnishings fit that theme rather well: a plush, king size bed with a royal burgundy comforter against one wall, a set of period chairs underneath an artistic stained glass window, lamps with tasseled shades, and a floor length mirror in one corner. All in all, it was a fairly comfortable prison.

Not that she was being kept a prisoner, leastways not by her host. Just by the situation. It had been two days since Crowley had brought her here, and she couldn't stand the waiting. He'd informed her that first night that Dean had texted him, saying they'd rescued Castiel and were on their way, but it would take them a while. Nothing about if Castiel was alright, no phone call to talk to her directly, unless the demon was lying and keeping that from her, though she saw no reason for him to. And unfortunately, she didn't have the phone the Winchesters had gotten her when she'd moved in to call them herself; she'd gone so long without a cellular device before that she wasn't used to keeping it on her person all the time, and it'd been left behind in their harried escape from the bunker.

Which left Ryn with nothing to do but to take a demon's word for news and anxiously while away the hours. It didn't help her nerves that being surrounded by demons was triggering her protective instincts with the urge to fight or flee. Not that the demons were bothering her. They'd all been keeping their distance, in fact, save for one that had apparently been assigned as her 'manservant' to see to her needs. Other than that, the King of Hell was her only visitor.

And there he was now, like clockwork. The rap on her door was merely a well-mannered announcement, as Crowley never waited for a response before immediately entering. He swung the doors wide open and strode inside, the manservant wheeling in a cart with a tray and covered silver platter behind him.

"Evening," Crowley greeted. "We have a special treat on the menu tonight I think you'll enjoy." He nodded to his demon lackey, who uncovered the platter, revealing some kind of pasta dish dripping with succulent sauce, and a smaller plate with a slice of fluffy cheesecake.

Ryn inclined her head in the expected polite response. "Thank you."

Crowley flicked a dismissive hand at the servant, who bowed out quickly. "And how's the little one doing?" he asked affably, gaze going to the now rather large bulge of her stomach. "Still growing strong and healthy?"

Ryn didn't know how close the baby was to being born, though she figured there was still quite a bit of time.

"Yes," she said, moving forward to pick up the dinner plate. It felt…awkward, accepting the King of Hell's hospitality, but she couldn't deny her physical needs in taking care of herself and the baby. The food always tasted delicious, too.

"Excellent," Crowley replied. "Good to hear."

"Why?" Ryn asked abruptly. "Why are you being… _nice_? The Winchesters asked you for sanctuary, not bed and breakfast. What self-interests are you trying to serve here?"

He arched an affronted eyebrow at her, but even Ryn could see it was feigned. "Well, I must admit I'm quite intrigued by this little…development," he said, gesturing at her belly. "An angel and a phoenix? Now that's something brand new and interesting."

"Touch my child and I will kill you."

Crowley's lips tugged upward in a smirk. "I'm sure. Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of poking the hornets nest of a certain angel and his horribly co-dependent pet humans."

Ryn narrowed her gaze.

"In truth," Crowley went on, "I've grown fond of the choir boy. Just when you think he's predictable…" He trailed off, waggling his brows at her suggestively. "Things would be so boring without him and the other two throwing cosmic wrenches in the cogs."

Ryn didn't know if she was buying that, but she wasn't able to pry further because a commotion started up out in the hall. She thrust her dinner plate back on the cart just as the manservant came scuttling back in.

"My lord, the Winchesters are—"

Sam and Dean swept in right on the demon's coattails, and Ryn's eyes widened at the sight of Castiel hanging limply between their arms.

"Oh god."

Dean immediately spotted the bed and veered toward it, him and Sam gently laying Castiel down on the plush mattress. His suit and trench coat were gone, replaced with a pair of gray sweats, flannel shirt, and a hoodie jacket Ryn recognized as belonging to Sam. She tried to push her way in to get a closer look, bumping into the taller Winchester as he turned around.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked earnestly.

She gave him a clipped nod, and he finally scooted over so she could get to Castiel. "What happened?" she demanded, settling a hand over his bruised brow.

"Angels," Dean answered stiffly. He turned toward Crowley. "You sure this place is warded enough?"

Crowley was eyeing Castiel's unconscious and battered form with mild interest. "Yes. Trust me, Squirrel, no one's finding this place."

Dean shifted his weight in apparent discomfort. "Thank you."

Crowley canted his head with a small twinkle in his eye. "Don't mention it." And with that, he left, closing the doors behind him and his lackey.

Ryn roved her gaze over Castiel, noticing the bandages wrapped around both wrists. He also had a bandaged cut on his cheek, and more gauze peeking out from under the collar of his borrowed shirt. She moved her hand to stroke a lock of hair back from his face, silently pleading for him to open his eyes. But he didn't. When she reached out her senses toward his grace, she found it buried so deep and dormant that it didn't even respond to her light prodding.

Something else, however, did. Ryn's palm grew warm, and a soft golden light started to suffuse out from it to seep into Castiel. The bruises on his forehead began to slowly fade.

Ryn stared in fascination as she moved her hand to the cut on his cheek, watching the jagged flesh begin to meld back together.

"Wait, you're able to heal him?" Sam asked incredulously.

Ryn shook her head in dazed astonishment and whispered, "It's the baby."

"Come again?" Dean said.

Ryn felt the tendril of energy reaching out, chasing down the waves of pain radiating from Castiel's body. She sensed the gaping hole in his shoulder, and laid her hand over it. Regenerating fire probed deep into the wound, but unlike the harsh burn of her natural flame, this one was tempered by the soothing balm of angelic grace.

"The baby has healing powers," she breathed in awe. Yet even as she felt the wound in Castiel's shoulder begin to mend, it started to leave her incredibly drained by the effort, and she finally had to pull away before the healing had completed. She sagged sideways into the pillows.

"Whoa, hey," Dean exclaimed, suddenly at her side and gripping her shoulder. "What the hell was that?"

Ryn managed to give him a tired smile. "Have to…pace ourselves."

"Yeah, okay." His mouth pinched in uncertainty, but then his gaze drifted to Castiel, whose face was nearly blemish free now. "Okay," Dean said more resolutely. "Just…no overdoing it. There's…" He swallowed hard. "There's a lot."

Ryn's chest constricted, but she nodded. The baby inside her kicked petulantly, eliciting a wince. _You're going to be as stubborn as your father, aren't you?_ she thought ruefully, even as her heart swelled with pride.

_And just as selfless and giving_.


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel drifted in a cocoon of warmth, lulled by a soft, soothing melody and the gentle sensation of fingers lightly carding through his hair. He almost didn't want to leave this half-dozing state, but bit by bit, awareness sharpened until he opened his eyes to see Ryn's face above him as she stroked his brow.

She smiled. "Hey."

"Cas?" another voice instantly perked up, and then there were two more faces crowding over him, both of them looking extremely worried. "Hey," Dean continued, a tenor of anxiety in his tone. "How you feeling?"

Castiel turned his head toward Ryn where she lay beside him, and reached out a hand to lay over her swollen belly. "I hear her," he marveled.

Ryn covered his hand with hers. "Yeah?"

Castiel closed his eyes and extended a tendril of his grace. A lilting high note of joy sang in response, and twined around him. It was so warm and bright, and pure.

"She's beautiful," he said, opening his eyes again.

Ryn was beaming like the sun. "I know."

Dean cleared his throat. "So…" His lips quirked with a barely contained grin. "You're having a daughter, huh, Cas?"

Castiel felt something warm fizzle deep within his chest, beyond all measure of belief and imagination, because _yes_ , he was. And he found himself smiling back at them all.

"How are you feeling, Cas?" Sam asked, repeating Dean's earlier question.

Castiel reluctantly withdrew that thread of grace and turned his focus inward. He felt…remarkably in one piece, albeit very heavy and exhausted, but he knew that he should have been in much worse shape. "Sore," he said. "How long have I been out?"

"Four days, off and on," Dean replied. "You don't remember?"

He furrowed his brow. "No." He tracked his gaze around the oddly medieval styled room then, frowning. "Where are we?"

"Um, Crowley's lair," Sam said.

Castiel's brows shot upward incredulously. "What?"

"It was the only place safe from angels we could think of," Dean added with a trace of embittered irony.

Castiel had no idea what to make of that. Sure, Crowley had been an ally in the past…but he was helping to hide them from Heaven, in his own personal lair?

"If you were waiting for me to recover, I can manage now," he said, propping himself up on his elbows, though it caused a faint twinge in his muscles. Castiel pushed the discomfort down.

Dean held a hand up. "No, Cas, we're not leaving any time soon. This place is warded better than the bunker, and for one thing, the angels don't know about it."

Castiel's heart clenched with grief. The bunker wasn't home to just the Winchesters, and he mourned it being compromised as much as he did for Sam and Dean's loss. "What- what's the plan?" he asked.

Sam and Dean exchanged a pained look, and Castiel felt a pit get carved out in his stomach. But then Dean schooled his expression and nodded to him.

"The plan is for you to rest some more and get your strength back. We can stay here as long as we need to."

Castiel heard what Dean was actually saying, though—they didn't have a plan…and they didn't have anywhere else to go.

* * *

Crowley was a surprisingly gracious host, providing three hearty meals a day for Ryn and the Winchesters, and even tailoring the food to them individually. Ryn always received portions of nutritional value, while Dean often found take-out burgers delivered outside his door.

Castiel stayed with Ryn in the gilded bedroom, and the Winchesters had been given one just down the hall. And while they were not confined to their guest quarters, neither did they have full range of the asylum. Crowley granted them free use of the north wing, which contained a shower room, empty office, and little else, which did not help ease Dean's rapidly growing restlessness. He and Sam spent a lot of time watching Netflix on a tablet that had been provided to them, though sometimes Crowley brought books for Sam and Ryn to read at their request.

Castiel, for his part, often sat by the stained glass window and wracked his brain for some way to resolve this mess. But the fact of the matter was that he and Ryn and their little girl would be hunted for the rest of their lives, always on the run, always looking over their shoulders for angels…and probably those of monster kind as well. And no amount of pleading would change Heaven's stance on what they'd done and the child they had conceived.

Castiel also didn't think they could remain here forever, though Crowley wasn't giving them any indication that his uncharacteristic benevolence was going to end soon. It made Castiel suspicious.

The last flummoxing straw came a few days later, when the demon servant dropped off Castiel's old suit and trench coat, completely cleaned of blood and restored. The gesture left him utterly bewildered, though he still quickly changed out of the Winchesters' borrowed clothes and back into his own. They were like a second skin to him, and he always felt somewhat incomplete in anything else.

And now that he was once again in what felt like a layer of his suit of armor, Castiel decided to venture out from the north wing to the King's 'throne room.'

The demon guards gave him leery looks, but didn't hinder him as he approached. They even pulled the double doors open and announced his arrival, with all the dramatic pomp and circumstance Castiel expected from Crowley.

The demon was sitting on his throne, a glass of liquor in one hand. "Ah, back to your old self," he said pleasantly.

Castiel glanced down at his attire, fingering the flap of his coat. "Yes." He narrowed his eyes. "I'm surprised you went to the trouble."

"I couldn't handle seeing you without the trench coat," Crowley replied, getting to his feet. He flicked his wrist sharply, and the demons around the perimeter made a hasty exit, leaving the two of them alone.

"It's like getting one of the Winchesters without flannel," he continued, and walked over to a liquor cabinet. "Drink?"

Castiel eyed him warily. "No. Thank you."

Crowley shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Castiel rolled his shoulder in discomfort. "No, I mean, thank you. For…all you've done for us. For me." He never thought he'd humble himself like this to a demon, but Castiel _was_ humbled. And grateful. Even if it also irked him.

Crowley lifted his brows, a smug twitch to his lips. "Don't go getting sentimental on me, Castiel. The simple fact of the matter is that every kingdom needs allies, even Hell."

"Allies?" he repeated. Because, while yes, they had often been allies, they had often been enemies, too. Just maybe not as much as of late.

"Every Armageddon," Crowley droned thoughtfully. "Every bloody, 'this is the end of all things,' a Winchester was there to stop it. Usually with a pair of wings in tow," he added with a meaningful look. "Whether I like it or not, you're all an asset I can't afford to lose."

Castiel gazed back at the demon for a prolonged moment in contemplation. "Or you've changed," he finally said.

Crowley smirked and raised his glass. "So have you." He knocked back the amber liquid, and then turned to pour another.

Castiel couldn't help but smile to himself, because yes, he had. And for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace with who he was.

Whatever that may be.

"I think I'll take that drink after all."

Crowley arched a surprised brow, but then pulled out a second glass and filled it halfway. He handed it to Castiel, holding up his own. "To allies."

Castiel clinked his glass against the King of Hell's. "To…breaking all the rules."

Crowley's face cracked into a devilish grin. "Amen."

* * *

As grateful as Dean was for the sanctuary and respite, he was starting to feel very cooped up in the freakin' _asylum_. They'd been there almost a week, and Cas had thankfully regained his strength, with no signs of any complications or lingering effects from the brain-hacking device, thank God. Or whoever. And even though Dean had been serious about not caring if his soul was slated for Hell, the longer they stayed here, the more he wondered about the practicality of it all. They may have been safe, but this was no place for a baby to be born and raised. Also, _Uncle_ Crowley? Dean suppressed a shudder. Yeah, no way.

They weren't really having any luck coming up with another plan, though. In terms of supernatural allies to turn to, Crowley was the top player in the game. And there weren't really any angels left alive who they might be able to plead their case to. If there was anyone Dean thought might have sided with Cas, it was Hannah, but if there was truth to his jilted ex-lover theory, she was taking it to the extreme.

Dean actually thought their best and most permanent solution would be to board up Heaven, but without the Angel Tablet, they didn't actually have any idea how to do that. Closing the gates by casting all the angels down again would also be a very bad idea, although then at least they wouldn't be able to summon that mass smiting shit. Unfortunately, that particular spell required the heart of a nephilim, and supposedly there weren't any left in existence.

So, they were completely screwed on that front. And all the others.

Story of their lives.

Dean meandered out into the courtyard, tired of looking at the same dingy walls. Which was kind of ironic, considering the bunker was pretty much the same thing. Just, obviously more homey, less horror movie set.

The outside wasn't much better, though: walls covered in gnarled, dead ivy branches, massive bushels of brambles overflowing from various large planters, and brown weeds protruding between the grooves of the cobble stones. The only thing in bloom was a rose bush, and its thorns were bigger than the tiny buds of black velvet poking up out of the tops of the stems.

Ryn was sitting on a wrought-iron bench, idly staring at the ground.

"Hey," Dean said, not wanting to startle her.

She looked up. "Hey."

She seemed so despondent, Dean didn't know whether he should leave and give her privacy, or stay and keep her company. It wasn't like there was anything he could say to make the situation better. He knew they were all feeling trapped.

But after a moment of wavering, he walked over and took a seat beside her. He didn't try to fill the morose silence, just sat there and roved his gaze over the dead garden, trying to picture a little girl running around it, wanting to pick flowers that were actually weeds. Maybe…maybe they could spruce it up…

"How do you not hate me?" Ryn said.

Dean blinked. "Hate you?"

Ryn dropped her gaze to her lap. "For all of this. For making you a target, driving you from your home."

" _You_ didn't do any of that," he said firmly. "This isn't your fault. It's not Cas's fault, and it's not that baby's fault. The angels are the dicks in the wrong here."

"That doesn't change the fact that all of your lives have been ruined. Because of me."

Dean let out a humorless snort. "That's usually our line."

Ryn just shook her head in growing agitation and looked away, over at the eight-foot stone walls of their prison.

Dean twisted sideways to face her. "Hey, look at me. You _saved_ my life. If it weren't for you, I'd still have the Mark…I'd probably actually be in this exact same spot, but with black eyes and a pile of blood and bodies stacked up from here to Kansas."

Dean's gut cramped at the thought. If he'd continued down that road, if he'd succumbed to the Mark and become a demon again…Sam and Cas…they'd probably be dead. At his hand. So would Crowley, and Dean would be here now as the one sitting on that throne.

A spiky lump in his throat tried to choke him, and he swallowed hard to shove it down. That wasn't his future, would never be his future because of the woman sitting next to him.

"So don't think I could ever hate you when you did _nothing_ wrong."

Moisture glistened in her eyes, and she blinked furiously against it. "I don't know how to do this," she confessed in a wafer-thin voice.

Dean's heart constricted, because he didn't know how they were going to do this, either. "You're good for Cas," he said, trying to focus on the positive. "That smile you put on his face?" Dean's own lips quirked just thinking about it. "It's been a long time since he's had reason to smile like that."

A lot of that had to do with the Winchesters, but some of it not. And things may have been pretty dire for them right now, but the fact that Cas was able to feel his baby girl and _smile_ like it was the most perfect thing in the world…that made all the crap and sacrifice worth it. For all of them.

And the rest…they'd figure out.

"Come on," Dean said, getting to his feet and holding out a hand. "Let's go talk baby names."

Ryn wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, but her mouth did tug with a small smirk. "Cas has read that baby name book you asked for three times, cover to cover."

Dean rolled his eyes. Figured.

They went back inside, only to find Sam, Cas, and Crowley gathered in the hallway.

"There you are," Crowley snapped impatiently. "You need to leave."

Dean stiffened. "What? Why?"

"Angels have started poking around town."

Dean's heart dropped into his stomach. "You said this place was impossible to find!"

Crowley's beard bristled. "Yes, well, the feathered halos finally remembered we were allies. The walls may keep our secrets, but squealing cowardly demons, not so much."

"So your demons sold us out."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Hardly. No, some of my operatives have recently gone missing. I think we can guess why. And I think we all know how thorough the angels' torture methods can be." He flicked a pointed look at Cas. "So if you don't want to be caught here, I suggest you leave. Now."

And then he vanished into thin air, probably having completely left the country.

Dean spared only a split second to exchange a panicked look with Sam, and then they were storming into the bedrooms to grab their bags. Sam tossed the tablet they'd been borrowing in with their stuff, since they'd need access to the Internet, and then on the way out, Dean raided Crowley's armory for some extra angel blades since all the demons had abandoned the place.

They stuffed everything in the trunk of the Impala, and then scrambled into their respective seats to book it out of there. Dean kept glancing up through the windshield at the sky for signs of a mass angel smiting, but the overcast day remained calm. The angels probably wouldn't strike without a confirmed target, so as to avoid blowing giant holes of collateral damage all over the planet. Or so Dean hoped.

Which meant that they were gonna have to keep on the move.

They drove west for a couple of hours, no one speaking, no tape in the music player, just the somber weight of their predicament choking the air in the cabin. Dean eventually pulled over into a diner so they could get some food, but they didn't do much talking there, either, except to place their orders. The waitress looked uncomfortable at the obvious tension between them, and made a hasty retreat after pouring them cups of coffee. She also made dropping off their plates when the orders were ready a quick process.

They ate silently, save for Cas, who only sipped languidly at his coffee. Dean started mentally mapping out their options in his head, hunter safe houses with caches they could bounce between.

"We should split up," Cas said suddenly.

Dean nearly choked on the mouthful of burger he was swallowing. "What?"

"Cas," Sam sputtered, "we're stronger together."

"Ryn and I can continue on," Cas explained. "Go somewhere far away. And- and you could go home, reach out to the angels and tell them you were planning to turn us over before we escaped. That way they might forgive you and your souls would be allowed into Heaven."

Dean gaped at his idiotic friend incredulously. "You think I give a damn about that?" he nearly shouted, only catching himself in time before he drew the attention of the entire diner.

The lines around Cas's mouth tightened in pain. "You should. We're talking about eternal _damnation_ , Dean."

"No, we're talking about selling you out for a set of pearls made of paste."

Cas's brows scrunched up in confusion, and he opened his mouth to argue further, but Dean cut him off.

"We're not doing that, Cas. End of story," he said harshly.

Blue eyes swam with roiling emotion. "I can't bear for all of you to be in danger because of me."

Dean flicked a look at Ryn, who was staying completely silent throughout this, gaze fixed pointedly on her half eaten plate. "Our lives are always in danger," he retorted.

"Cas," Sam interjected earnestly. "Don't you think the angels would try to draw you out by threatening us?"

Cas's face drained of color.

"Yeah," Dean snapped. "Those dicks upstairs have no honor, Cas. They don't care about right and wrong, about innocent and guilty. Any attempts to reason with them is gonna end in torture, plain and simple."

Cas's shoulders deflated, and he suddenly looked nothing but utterly wrecked. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Dean angrily picked up his burger and shoved another bite in his mouth.

"We're sticking together," Sam said more gently, but also brooking no further discussion on the matter.

They fell into silence once more as they finished their meals, and then got up to get back on the road, needing to stay on the move, stay one step ahead of the angel hit squad.


	11. Chapter 11

The Impala's tires crunched lightly as it rolled slowly down the dirt stretch toward the cabin nestled in the far back of the woods near a small lake. This was their second safe house after being on the road for a week, their plan to spend only a couple of nights at a time at each one. It reminded Sam of when he and Dean had been on the run from the Leviathan. Except they hadn't had Cas or a very pregnant lady with them at the time…though Lucifer had been running wild in Sam's noggin. And this time they thankfully hadn't been forced to resort to switching cars yet.

So, things had been pretty much just as bad, then, seemed like they couldn't possibly get better. They'd gotten through it, though; they'd somehow get through this now.

Ryn was asleep in the backseat, her head resting on Cas's shoulder as the angel sat completely rigid so as not to disturb her. They'd waited in the car earlier that evening when Sam and Dean had gone into a bar to hustle at pool. Turned out the brothers were a little rusty, having not had to do it for a while, but it didn't take too long to find their rhythm again.

Still, they'd stayed a couple of hours to milk everything they could, and when they'd come out again, Ryn had fallen asleep. She was looking more worn around the edges, paler too, and Sam worried about the toll the stress of everything was taking on her and the baby.

When Dean put the car in park and shut off the engine, Cas finally reached out to lightly touch her shoulder, and she roused groggily.

"We're here," he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Dean wordlessly got out of the car, and Sam followed, both of them going around back to the trunk to grab their duffels and the bag of Chinese takeout they'd picked up on their way out of town with some of the fresh cash they'd earned. The area was calm and peaceful, sounds of a woodpecker in one of the trees tapping out a steady staccato rhythm of normalcy and safety.

They entered the cabin, doing a quick sweep and taking inventory of the supplies in the cache. They'd have to make a trip into town to restock everything before they left so another hunter could find refuge in the future if needed.

Dean set the bag of food on a squat, wooden table in the middle of the room. They'd be dining on the floor tonight, but there was a pile of ratty pillows in the corner they could sit on.

"Get it while it's hot," Dean announced as Cas and Ryn finally came into the cabin.

Ryn huffed out a sigh. "I get on that floor, I'm not getting up again."

Sam's mouth quirked, but Cas just looked at her in confusion.

"I'll help you," he said.

Sam grabbed one of the floor pillows and dropped it down on one side of the table. "Here."

Cas gripped Ryn's arm and helped ease her down, his angelic strength easily able to keep her steady. Dean started opening the food cartons and jamming sets of chopsticks into them, and then the four of them settled around the table and dug in.

Dean pulled his phone out and checked it, only to toss it on his bag behind him.

"Nothing from Crowley?" Sam asked.

"Nope. Guess we wore out that welcome mat when he lost his 'palace.'"

"I'm sure he'll be able to return eventually," Cas put in.

"I honestly thought he could do better, given the high quality suit," Ryn commented.

Sam let out a snort. "I think he was just trying to create a little piece of Hell on Earth. He did have a dungeon and torture chamber in there, you know."

Cas furrowed his brow. "We weren't allowed to go looking around."

Sam shrugged. "Dean got bored."

Cas gave them both such a chastising parental look then that Sam almost busted out laughing. Oh, he had the 'dad' face down pat. But, the minute his kid learned how to use the 'puppy eyes,' Cas would be done for, hopelessly wrapped around her little finger. Actually, they'd all probably be doomed…

Sam instantly sobered as the innocent joke inevitably led him back to their current situation. "So, I've been thinking," he said. "We should try to find more Hands of God, since that seems to be about the only thing powerful enough to fight off an army of angels."

Dean canted his head in agreement. "Yeah, okay. Maybe we shore up enough of them, we can send a nuke right through the pearly gates."

Cas stiffened. "I don't want to destroy Heaven," he said in a pained voice.

By the look on Dean's face, Sam could tell his brother was astounded that Cas still cared about any of the angels upstairs at all.

"Maybe we won't have to use them," Sam put in hurriedly. "If we get our hands on enough, and the angels know it, maybe we can just achieve a Mexican standoff." One that would make the Cuban Missile Crisis seem like a first grader's spat in a sandbox.

"That could take us a long time," Ryn said quietly.

Sam's shoulders sagged. Yeah, but it was the best plan they had. They wouldn't be able to run forever.

"We could always try tracking Rowena down," Dean mentioned. "I mean, she had the juice to shield from that angel smiting."

"She has no reason to help us," Cas pointed out.

"I'll think of a really good one."

They fell silent at the unspoken threat in Dean's statement, conversation over for now. There wasn't anything to do tonight, anyway, except to get some rest. Tomorrow, Sam would start looking for Hands of God, and Dean could work on finding Rowena.

Cas got to his feet after another minute. "I'll go put additional warding on some of the trees outside," he announced, and made an exit.

The rest of them finished their dinner, and then Ryn declared herself too tired to bother getting up and over to the cot, and so simply laid herself down on the floor to fall asleep. Dean scooted two of the pillows over for her to at least have some kind of cushion.

"You take the cot," Sam told his brother. "I won't fit."

"Sasquatch," Dean muttered under his breath, running a weary hand down his face. "But nah, Cas can pick her up and move her when he gets back."

Sam lowered his voice, even though Ryn was already sound asleep. "Actually, I don't think _she'd_ fit, either." The cot was pretty narrow.

Dean furrowed his brow as he gave the thing an appraising glare. "Eh, yeah, maybe not."

Sam laid out a bedroll for himself and puttered around while Dean settled onto the cot, the springs squeaking loudly every time he shifted trying to find a comfortable position. But he was exhausted enough that it didn't take long for everything to fall quiet.

Sam glanced at the door, wondering how many trees Cas planned on carving into out there. He grabbed his jacket and quietly slipped outside.

Cas wasn't busy cutting sigils into trunks, but was standing on the shore of the lake, gazing out at the moon-rippled water. Sam flipped his collar up and buried his hands in his pockets as he made his way over.

"Hey," he said softly, trying not to disturb the tranquility. Cas didn't say anything.

"About the Hands of God," Sam went on. "They'd just be for protection. Self-defense."

Cas shook his head. "What am I doing, Sam? The angels will never stop hunting us, and I'm going to bring a child into that kind of life?"

"We'll figure something out," Sam responded, but it came out somewhat weak.

Cas's gaze drifted out across the lake again, and he was silent for several moments. "When your father left you in motel rooms, and at Bobby's…" he started carefully. "It was because he thought he was keeping you safe, correct?"

Sam's gut had the knee-jerk reaction of tightening at the subject of John, but also at the unexpectedness of the question, coming from Cas. Was he now thinking of leaving them _and_ Ryn? Going off on his own, maybe intending to draw the angels away? Because that would be just like him.

But instead of jumping in with repeated arguments about why that would be the stupidest idea, ever, Sam decided to consider Cas's actual question with the respect his friend deserved. Because he thought he could understand where Cas was coming from, even if he didn't agree with it.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I think, on some level, Dad probably thought that." Sam shifted. "As a kid, though, I saw it as something else."

"Abandonment," Cas said bluntly.

"Yeah," Sam told him honestly. "Even if my dad had good intentions,"—and Sam still took issue with the methods of those intentions—"most of the time, I just wanted him to be there. And…wanting to keep your family safe is all well and good, but…you can't protect them from everything. Whether you're there or not."

Cas's brows knitted together.

"But, ask any kid whose parent is gone," Sam continued, "and they'll tell you they'd rather have that mom or dad."

"Cursed or not?" Cas asked wryly.

Sam quirked a confused brow. "Uh, yeah." He frowned as he studied the angel. "You're not cursed, though. I know Dean likes to say we are, that everyone in our family is doomed to suffer…" Sam's words choked off, and he took a moment to collect himself, because honestly, sometimes that _felt_ true…

"But it's not always like that," he said earnestly. "We've had good times. Maybe few and far between the bad times, but they exist. Those- those are what we hold onto."

Cas was silent for a long beat. "My father abandoned us, the angels," he said, the gravelly tone in his voice deepening. "Do- do you think…he thought he was doing the right thing?"

Sam gave his friend a sympathetic shrug. "I don't know, Cas. If he was, would that make his absence hurt any less?"

Cas thought about it for a moment. "No." His expression shifted then, some of the lines smoothing out. "Thank you, Sam. You're a good friend."

Sam gave him a small smile in return. "So, you're not thinking of leaving?" he checked.

"No. Despite my sincere intentions, and what my own father's may have been…" He took a deep breath. "I don't want to be like him."

Sam nodded in understanding, and reached out to clap a hand on Cas's shoulder. "You've always been the best of us, you know that?"

Cas shook his head sharply. "No, Sam. But…I think, perhaps, we've always been the best of each other. And I wouldn't want to do this without you and Dean."

Cas stepped forward and abruptly put his arms around Sam in a gripping, heartfelt hug. Sam was startled at first, yet couldn't help but widen his smile as he hugged the angel back.

"We wouldn't let you," he said in his friend's ear.

Cas pulled back and nodded in accepted solidarity. "Get some sleep, Sam. I think I'd like to stay and watch the moon rise a little more."

"Okay." Sam gave him one last look before heading back inside. Their problems were likely to only get worse from here on out, but tonight, at least, they were all safe and sound.

* * *

Ryn shifted in the backseat of the Impala, trying to suppress any noises of discomfort as she attempted to relieve the aching in her legs and back. Spending hours cramped in the car every few days was beginning to wear on her. But they had to keep moving; she knew that. They'd stayed in the last cabin for three days, which was as long as the Winchesters seemed willing to dare, and now they were making their way west across the state to the next one, but it was just over a full day's drive, and Ryn was having a harder and harder time sitting still.

When Dean pulled into a gas station twenty minutes later, she was scooting out of the car before he'd even turned off the engine. Castiel climbed out the other side and hurried around the back.

"Are you alright?" he asked worriedly.

"I just need to stretch my legs," she assured him.

Dean slammed his door shut and frowned at her. "I should've stopped sooner, huh?" he said sheepishly.

Ryn shook her head. She hadn't asked him to, hadn't mentioned her growing level of discomfort because she hadn't wanted to delay them. "It's fine, really. I'm gonna walk around, use the ladies' room." Being pregnant was a little more taxing on her human form than usual. Her bladder did not appreciate being squished, and she felt like a blimp.

As she shuffled her way to the restroom, Dean popped open the gas tank to fill up the Impala, and Sam jogged into the quick-mart, probably to get some more snacks and water bottles. The ladies' room was filthy, but beggars couldn't complain. Ryn scrubbed her hands thoroughly with soap and water, and then simply used the skirt of her dress to dry them.

She had just stepped out and was letting the door swing shut behind her, when a shadow lunged from between it and the wall, silver glinting in a shard of sunlight.

Ryn shot her hands out and caught the wrist that held the angel blade inches before it plunged into her stomach, eyes wide as her attacker's flashed blue for a brief moment. The angel sneered at her, and tried to give the blade another thrust. Ryn managed to keep a firm hold on his arm, keeping that precarious distance between the tip of the blade and her stomach, but the force slammed her back against the wall and she cried out in pain and terror.

Gritting her teeth, she flung herself to the side. The angel blade drove forward, grazing the inside of her arm instead. Searing fire erupted from the cut, and Ryn stumbled into a dumpster.

The angel whirled, seething as he lumbered forward to bear down on her. But then the tip of a blade suddenly punched through the back of his neck and out his mouth, and a nova of blinding light exploded a split second later. Ryn threw an arm up to shield her eyes.

"Oh god," Sam's voice filled the space next to her, and she blinked to find him at her side, hands gripping her arm above and below the fiery sting needling her for attention.

The attacker's body dropped, revealing the wrathful visage of Castiel standing behind him. "Ryn!" His worried voice sounded like the crack of thunder in her ears.

"Shit," Sam continued muttering. "Are you hurt anywhere else? Is the baby okay?"

"We're okay," she said, albeit shakily. "It's just a scratch." She glanced down, vision blurring slightly at the sight of torn flesh and bright scarlet trickling down her elbow and onto the ground. She suddenly felt very hot, fire quickening in her blood. Ryn inhaled sharply and tried to suppress it.

"We need to go," Castiel said urgently.

Sam tugged at her arm, keeping a firm grip on her as he and Castiel flanked her on the way back to the Impala where Dean was hastily putting the nozzle back in its cradle and twisting the gas cap back on.

"There any more of them?" he demanded.

"I don't think so," Sam said, guiding Ryn to the backseat and helping her in. "Not right this second." He shut the door on her and went around to pop the trunk.

Castiel climbed in on the other side, face pinched with worry as he looked at her arm. She bit her lip and focused on her natural healing fire, but while it was stirring after the assault, nothing was happening. It seemed the baby's grace was making her equally vulnerable to weapons of Heaven at the moment. And that had been…oh god, he'd almost… Ryn sucked in a ragged gasp as the shock doused her in ice.

The doors up front opened, and then Dean and Sam were sliding into the car. Sam twisted around and passed Castiel a first-aid kit, which he quickly opened and began fumbling through. Dean started up the engine, and then peeled out of the gas station with a screeching of tires.

Ryn's pulse was racing, the baby's distress a palpable squirming, and it was taking all of her concentration not to let her inner fire explode.

Castiel ripped open a moist wipe and began to clean the wound on her arm. She closed her eyes and focused on the cool touch of his fingers, the gentle ministrations. Gradually, her breaths came slower, and she felt the raging inferno recede to a simmer.

Castiel unrolled a spool of gauze and then carefully wrapped it around her bicep, tucking the ends underneath each other. And then he put his arms around her and drew her against his chest. Ryn let herself sink against him, blinking back tears from frayed nerves and post adrenaline crash.

Castiel carded his fingers lightly through her hair, tucking her head under his chin. No one said anything, and she drifted into a dreamless sleep to the tender caresses of her angel and the mighty roar of the Impala.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean rapped his fingers against the steering wheel in sync with the current rock tune emanating from the speakers. Another six days on the run, yet another of Bobby's cabins they were headed to for refuge. They always put up extra alarms and traps with sigils on the surrounding trees, pretty much giving everywhere they stopped a major upgrade in warding, but it wasn't enough to give them a more permanent base of security, because eventually one of them would have to go into town for supplies and that risked exposure. After Dean had passed a Jehovah's Witness outside a convenience store at the last place, he'd immediately gone back to the cabin and packed everyone up a day early.

Sam had found a lead on a potential Hand of God, but they weren't in a position to go track it down, and Dean didn't want to split up, so they'd called Charlie and asked her to look into it. She was outraged when they'd told her what was going on, and vowed not to rest until she'd found all the remaining Hands of God for them. Her steadfast bravery and devotion brought a small smile to Dean's face after they'd hung up; they weren't alone in this, and Dean would take Charlie on their team against anyone.

Still, it'd be nice to have some bigger guns, too, but on that front, they were having even less luck. Rowena was in the wind as much as they were. Dean had tried calling Crowley again, because surely he would have Rowena in his sights, since she did betray him when they first attempted to trap the Darkness. But Crowley wasn't answering. Figured.

Dean turned the music down and glanced in the rearview mirror at the backseat. "We're almost there. You doing okay?" He'd tried to be more attentive to Ryn's discomfort, making stops along abandoned stretches of highway instead of in towns where they might be spotted.

She gave him a wan smile. "I'd be better if someone would stop doing the rumba on my spleen."

Cas furrowed his brow as he glanced down at her stomach. "There's not enough space for the baby to stand up, let alone engage in a Latin dance."

Dean just shook his head. "Well—"

Something rammed into the back end of the Impala with a horrendous crunching of metal and screeching of tires. Dean wrenched the wheel, trying to keep the car from careening into an all-out spin. He slammed the brakes as they skidded sideways and lurched to a stop, now horizontally across the road. Behind them, a jeep was sitting parallel, its engine spewing steam out through the smashed hood.

"Son-of-a-bitch." Dean twisted around frantically. "You guys okay?"

Ryn was blinking dazedly, and Cas was running his hands over her worriedly, but it was his side that had taken the impact.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, and he whipped his gaze back around in time to see the driver and a passenger get out of the jeep, both with angel blades in hand.

"Shit." He scrambled from the car, pulling out his angel blade from his jacket. Sam's door opened behind him as his brother also clambered out.

The two angels charged forward without a word, eyes blazing with murderous intent. Dean tried to duck under the first one's swing, but an arm came arcing around and caught him across the chest, flinging him against the Impala with a dull thud. He struck out with his blade; the angel leaped backward.

The back door being opened pushed against Dean's back, and he nearly lost his balance as Cas tried to squeeze his way out. The attacking angel surged forward again, and Dean dove to the side. There was another reverberating thwack, and Dean just knew his Baby had gotten another dent. The bastards.

Ignoring Dean, the angel punched a fist straight through the back window, shattering the glass, and then he was reaching in to grab Cas by the throat. Dean threw himself forward and rammed his angel blade right into the assassin's back. With an ear-splitting cry and explosion of light, he died in a nova.

Dean jerked the blade back out and let the body drop, then whipped his head up as Sam was thrown against the trunk of the car. The second angel stormed around and yanked open Ryn's door, yet before he could reach in and grab her, Dean whipped out his gun and fired five successive rounds over the roof of the Impala. The angel stumbled back a step, now sporting several bullet holes in his upper chest, though they'd just been regular lead without any holy oil, and therefore useless.

But it did buy just a second, which was all Sam needed to roll off the trunk and drive his blade between the dickbag's ribs. Another raging bellow and exploding star, and the smell of burnt ozone and ash filled the air.

Dean gave his brother a quick once-over, making sure he hadn't taken any serious injuries, and then he ducked down at the broken back window. "Ryn, you okay?"

Her eyes were wide and breaths heavy, but she managed to give him a jerky nod. "I think so."

"Dean," Cas said urgently, and Dean twisted around to follow the angel's gaze over his shoulder. In the distance, he could just make out a pickup truck coming down the road at increasing speed. His heart dropped into his stomach as he whipped back around.

"Tell me that's not more of them."

Cas lifted panicked eyes to his.

"Dammit. Sam, let's go."

Sam slammed Ryn's door shut and scrambled into the passenger seat again just as Dean got behind the wheel.

"Should we bypass the cabin?" Sam asked.

Dean clenched his jaw. "We need a defensible position." What he didn't say but Sam would know was that a defensible position was also a good place to get boxed in with no exit.

"You can use an angel banishing sigil," Cas spoke up.

Dean immediately shook his head. "No. That'd banish you too."

"If we're surrounded by angels, you won't have much choice," Cas argued.

"Cas," Sam interjected. "Can't you activate one? If you do it, then it won't banish you, right?"

Dean immediately perked up. Oh, they were so doing that, then.

"Ryn should do it," Cas countered. "In case the power in the sigil might have an effect on the baby."

Dean gritted his teeth. Dammit.

Cas lowered his tone. "You can always find me later."

Dean's throat constricted, but he didn't argue further. "Last resort," he said.

He pushed the Impala's rpm into the redline, trying to evade the truck on their tail before they reached the cabin. They had a small lead on it, but not by much. Dean took the turn off the highway that would lead them deep into the woods, barreling through the overgrown brush as branches and twigs thwacked against the sides of the Impala. He brought them to a screeching halt outside the cabin, and then they were all frantically spilling out from the car, Sam and Cas helping Ryn to the door while Dean grabbed their bags from the trunk.

Once inside, Ryn grabbed the back of a chair to brace herself, and Dean grabbed the cans of red spray paint from one of the duffels. He tossed one to his brother, and the two of them immediately started marking up the windows.

"You need to use the stronger sigils," Cas said.

"That's gonna weaken you," Sam protested.

Cas shook his head adamantly. "I'll manage. We can't allow them to get close."

"What about the baby?" Dean asked Ryn. "Won't the angel repellant hurt her?"

Ryn's expression was pinched tightly, her knuckles white around the back of the chair. "I- I don't know. I'm feeling kind of weird."

Dean's heart stuttered; had the accident caused an injury after all?

Cas instantly went to her side and touched one hand to her forehead, the other to her belly. "I'm not sensing any damage."

"Could the angels have developed some kind of weapon," Sam put in. "Something they can use from a distance, like the aerial smiting?"

Well, shit. Dean gestured sharply at his brother to get back to putting the wards up. "Tell us if these start hurting you or the baby, okay?" he said to Ryn. Better they have something than nothing.

Dean and Sam frantically covered the windows and even the walls and back of the door with as much Enochian sigils as they could fit, constantly glancing over their shoulders to make sure their grace-carrying companions were holding up. Cas's face had gone pale, and he was starting to breathe heavily like that time they'd infiltrated Crowley's warehouse to save that angel Samandriel. Ryn was watching Cas with more concern for him than herself at the moment.

Dean was just reaching up to spray a sigil on the ceiling above the door when Ryn let out a pained cry. He jerked back, whipping around in panic. "Shit, Sam, neutralize the last ones!"

"No," Ryn gasped. "It's not the warding." She bowed forward and groaned. "The baby's coming."

Dean gaped at her in stunned stupidness.

" _What_?" Sam sputtered.

"No, no, no," Dean exclaimed. "It can't come now. Tell it to stop!"

Ryn shot him a sharp glower. "It's not like there's an off-switch!"

_Shit_. "Cas, you handle…that."

The angel just looked at him in sheer horror. "I don't know what to do."

Oh, for the love of…

"Bed," Ryn gritted out. This cabin actually had one, and Cas hurried to help her over to it, though his steps were just as staggered as hers.

Sam grabbed the can of spray paint from Dean's hand. "Go. Towels and blankets."

What? Why him?

Sam started to spray paint a sigil on the ceiling, which he was better able to reach than Dean could. Dammit.

Dean hurried to the back closet and started pulling ratty blankets from the shelves and tossing them at Cas, who fumbled to spread them out on the bed. Ryn let out another pained cry, back arched against the headboard.

"What's that breathing thing you're supposed to do?" Dean said. "Hee-hee ho-something?"

"Lamaze," Sam called over his shoulder. "It's patterned breathing."

"Right. Cas?" Dean arched an expectant brow.

Cas's throat bobbed, but he leaned closer to Ryn and tried to coach her through some steadier breaths.

Dean's heart was palpitating so fast, he probably would have benefited from some of that shit, but then Sam yelled something that kicked it up into overdrive.

"Guys, we've got company!"

Dean whirled around, and saw a pickup truck pulling up outside. The view was distorted with all the crimson warding on the windows, but it looked like half a dozen mooks were leaping out of the truck bed. They stopped several yards away, though, moving in agitation but not coming forward. The warding must have been working at keeping them out.

"Cas!"

Dean turned at Ryn's cry in time to see Cas slide onto the floor, breathing ragged and complexion whiter than a ghost's.

"Cas!" Sam rushed over and dropped down beside him.

"G-get the…banishing s-sigil…ready," Cas panted.

Sam shot Dean a panicked look; neither of them wanted to blast Cas away, especially if he was already weakened by the sigils. But another scream from Ryn forced them from their indecision. She was in no shape to activate the sigil, and once that baby was born, they couldn't risk it anyway.

Dean gave his brother a sharp head shake, and then turned back to Ryn, whose eyes were squeezed shut and she was clutching so tightly at the bedcover, the tendons in her hands looked ready to pop. Just like this baby was about to.

Dean took up position at the foot of the bed. "Ryn, sweetheart, look at me. You can do this."

She forced her eyes open, amber pools glistening with pain and hopelessness. "They're just going to kill us all anyway," she choked out.

Dean's heart clenched, but he shook off his own wave of defeatism. "This kid is still coming. She's a fighter, you remember telling me that? Just like her mom and dad."

He flicked a glance to the side where Sam was crouched over Cas, one hand gripping the angel's shoulder as Cas twitched and shuddered.

Dean swallowed hard, and took a breath to steel himself before snatching up one of the blankets. "So come on, let's fight with her. Okay? You have to push."

Ryn threw her head back with another cry, this one a combination of agony and raging resolve. With blood roaring in Dean's ears and adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream like fire, he barely heard anything but a smattering of white noise. Not Ryn's screams, not Sam's blathering attempts at encouragement, not the angels outside ready to break down the door any second. Nothing registered, not even what he was doing.

Until a new sound filled the cacophony, one that was harsh and strident against the others, and yet one of the most amazing things Dean had ever heard in his entire life. Suddenly everything else seemed to stop, and he gazed down at the tiny, beautiful baby girl in his arms. Ten fingers and ten toes, a head full of dark locks…she was absolutely perfect in every way imaginable.

Dean lifted a breathless look of awe to his brother, who was staring back in equal astonishment, a giddy, slack-jawed expression on his face.

"Is she…?" Ryn gasped, sagging back against the pillows in obvious exhaustion.

Dean folded the edges of the blanket over, swaddling the precious bundle in his arms, and then stood and angled his body so Ryn could see. "Yeah, she is."

An enraged cry rose up outside, and Dean's heart seized. Before he or Sam could think of what to do, the windows started to rattle and a horrible, ear-splitting whine filled the air as though a jet engine were descending on them. Blinding light blazed through the windows and cracks from all sides, drowning them in a sea of glowing red from the spray painted glass.

Dean tucked his niece closer to his chest and tried to shield her with his arms, even as he knew this was it. And all he could think was that Cas hadn't gotten to see his daughter, hadn't gotten to see the beautiful and innocent life that he'd created.

And then it all cut off with such abruptness that Dean thought it was over and he was dead. He lifted his head, wondering what Hell would look like this time. Except there was still a tiny weight in his arms, and he looked down into a pair of honey-brown eyes gazing back up at him. He heard a sharp inhale, and whipped his head up to find Sam lurching to his feet, eyes wide as he swept a frantic gaze around the cabin. Everything was silent, a lazy stream of sunlight spilling through windows clear of warding. Cas pushed himself up into a sitting position on the floor, expression slack with stupor. Ryn blinked dazedly, half passed out on the bed.

The back of Dean's neck prickled, and he whirled around, only for his jaw to drop at the man standing just inside the closed door.

" _Chuck_?" Sam sputtered.

"Hey, guys." The prophet gave them a tentative smile. "We should probably talk."

Dean stared at him incredulously. "What the hell's going on here, exactly? Are we dead?"

"Not at all," Chuck assured him.

Dean exchanged a wary look with Sam, and then glanced out the window at the now empty yard.

"Oh, them," Chuck said, waving a hand dismissively. "I sent all the other angels back to Heaven."

Sam's brows shot upward. " _You_ …sent the angels back to Heaven?"

Dean tensed at the implication, and the knowing gleam that filled Chuck's eyes then. "No," he snapped. No way. "How do we even know that you're really Chuck and not just some crazy spell or manifestation?"

Chuck nodded to Sam, whose jacket pocket was suddenly glowing with intense light. Sam shoved his hand into the fold and pulled the item out, and Dean was stunned to see that it was his amulet, after all this time, and…glowing in the presence of… His eyes widened.

Cas staggered to his feet shakily. " _You_ ," he ground out. "You're…"

Sam reached backward to grip the angel's arm and hold him steady.

Chuck turned his attention back to Dean and nodded to the bundle in his arms. "May I?"

Dean instantly tightened his hold on the baby and angled her away from Chuck— _God_. Like Dean even stood a _chance_ against him.

Chuck just gave him a look. "Come on, guys. You really think I'd come all the way out here to hurt my grandchild?" He held his arms out expectantly.

Dean hesitated, and exchanged a nervous look with Cas and Ryn, but what were they supposed to do? This was _God_ , capital G. Dean slowly passed the baby over, jaw tightening as she left his arms.

Chuck tucked a fold of the blanket down under her chin. "Hey there, sweetheart," he cooed. "Mhm, you have your mother's eyes."

Dean and everyone else in the room held themselves rigidly as Chuck rocked the baby in his arms.

"But your wings are going to take after your father's."

"Please," Cas blurted softly. "Please, don't hurt her. Punish me if you must, but she's innocent."

Chuck looked up with an unreadable expression for a silent moment. "I'm not here to hurt her, Castiel. I'm not here to hurt any of you."

"You're not?" Sam asked dubiously.

Chuck shook his head. "I told you, I came to see my granddaughter."

"And the fact that she's half angel, half phoenix doesn't bother you?" Dean said, still not trusting him one iota. "Because the angels were ready to smite us to kingdom come."

Chuck let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, I was kinda hoping they'd change their minds before it got to this point."

"Got to this point?" Dean repeated. "They've been hounding us for _weeks_. They tortured Cas!" He tried to reel in his anger when Chuck looked his way, because shit, he really needed to not piss off the Big Man. But Chuck—God—couldn't just…swoop in here and expect them to fall on their faces in worship.

"Where were you?" Dean asked, voice strained with mounting emotion. "Where were you then? Where- where were you when the _Darkness_ was about to destroy _everything_?"

"You handled that pretty well, I think," Chuck responded blithely.

Dean shook his head, the floodgates now open. "It's not just that. You- you've been gone…a long, long time. And there's so much crap that has gone down on the Earth for thousands of years. I mean, plagues and wars, slaughters. And you were, I don't know, writing books, going to fan conventions. Were you even aware, or- or did you just tune it out?"

Chuck's expression sobered. "I was aware, Dean."

"But you did nothing." He could see in his peripheral vision Sam shifting his weight nervously. "And I-I'm not trying to piss you off," Dean added quickly. "You know, I don't want to turn into a pillar of salt."

"I actually…didn't do that," Chuck said.

Dean blinked. "Okay. Um, people- people pray to you. Cas prayed to you." He gestured at the angel, who dropped his gaze to the floor. "He believed in you. People build churches for you. They fight wars in your name, and you did nothing."

"You're frustrated. I get it," Chuck said with a world of patience that only made Dean's heart hurt more. "Believe me, I was hands-on—real hands-on—for, wow, ages. I was so sure if I kept stepping in, teaching, punishing, that these beautiful creatures that I created…would grow up." He shrugged. "But it only stayed the same. And I saw that I needed to step away and let my baby find its way. Being over-involved is no longer parenting." He sighed. "It's enabling."

"But it didn't get better," Cas finally spoke up, voice thick with gravel. "People kept hurting each other. Angels kept hurting each other." He took a staggered step forward, expression wrecked with open devastation. "All the mistakes I made…why would you keep bringing me back? Why would you keep _enabling_ me to fail? If you had just _once_ , answered me when I asked for guidance, so much pain and misery and death could have been avoided."

"You're a father now, Castiel. You'll understand someday."

"No," Cas growled, and clenched his fists at his sides. "You don't just _leave_ , without a word, without an explanation. And then say you don't care when we needed you the most. That's not stepping away; that's being a coward!"

Dean swallowed hard and exchanged nervous glances with Sam and Ryn. Cas had every right to hash this out with his dad, but that didn't mean that they weren't all poised on the edge of a knife here.

Chuck regarded Cas for a long moment. "I know it wasn't easy, trying to make your own path. I know it hurt a lot of the time. It may seem like things haven't gotten better, but, well, I've been mulling it over. And from where I stand…" He dropped his gaze to the baby who'd fallen asleep in his arms. "I think they have."

Chuck moved forward then, closing the distance between him and Cas and depositing the bundle in the angel's arms. Cas sputtered soundlessly, eyes rounding in alarm.

"Support her head," Sam suggested, helping Cas adjust his hold. The angel continued to look completely freaked, like he was afraid he might break her.

"You'll be a good father," Chuck said with a knowing smile. He then turned to Ryn, who'd been conspicuously as silent as possible this entire time. "You probably don't remember me."

She tried to push herself up straighter on the bed, pressing herself back against the headboard as she clutched at the blankets.

Cas whipped his head up with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"It was shortly after Eve created you," Chuck explained, still addressing Ryn. "She didn't like her work." At that, his mouth thinned in something like disapproval. "I found you in a garden, cast aside and left to die. You were so small then."

Ryn didn't say anything, but her throat bobbed nervously.

"The problem was Eve created your fire to destroy," Chuck went on. "Which meant it would devour even you."

Dean raised his brows. "What happened?"

Chuck shrugged one shoulder. "I tweaked it. Infused the breath of life into your spark instead. Then your fire became restorative and pure."

Ryn stared at him incredulously. "And that's why I'm poisonous to Eve," she finally breathed.

Dean shook his head in amazement. All of this was a bit too much to process at the moment.

"So, now what?" he asked. "The angels gonna leave us alone? Cas and Ryn and the baby are off their hit list?"

Chuck nodded. "I've given the angels strict instructions that they're not to harm any of you." He glanced at Dean and Sam. "And your souls will go to Heaven when it's your time. You've earned that."

Dean blinked in surprise. "Oh, okay. Thanks." He still wasn't entirely sure he wanted to be up there with those dicks, but if they weren't allowed to mess with them anymore, he supposed it'd be okay. "And you're back now to take charge?"

Chuck shook his head. "No. I still believe in stepping back and letting you find your way. You've been doing a well enough job so far. I will straighten a few things up in Heaven first, though." He hesitated, and glanced at Cas. "You're right that leaving the way I did sent the wrong message."

Cas's jaw visibly tightened, but he didn't say anything to that.

"What about us?" Dean pressed. "What about Earth?"

"Earth will be fine," Chuck replied, and broke into a smile. "It's got all of you."

And with that, he was gone.

Dean stared at the empty place he'd been standing for a long moment in shock, still unable to fully believe that after weeks of harrowing close calls, they were actually safe. He turned back to share a relieved glance with his brother, who once again had that goofy look on his face as he watched Cas move over to the bed. Ryn scooted to the edge to reach out and finally touch her child. Dean's heart felt immeasurably light.

"So, Cas, what's her name?"

Cas waited a beat. "Amala," he said. "It means 'hope' and 'pure' in Sanskrit, and 'bird' and 'beloved' in Arabic."

Dean arched a brow, amazed so much meaning could be packed into one name like that. It was fitting, though.

Sam nodded appreciatively. "That's beautiful, Cas."

"Yeah, okay," Dean said, thinking about it for a moment. "Hey, Amy for short."

Sam shot him a bitch-face, while Ryn gave him a look of fond exasperation.

Cas just canted his head thoughtfully. "That also means 'beloved,'" he said, and smiled tentatively at the infant in his arms.

Dean couldn't help but break into a wide, stupid grin. That right there, was worth more than anything else in all of Heaven and Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think???


	13. Chapter 13

Castiel stood as still as a statue, gazing down at Ryn and Amala asleep in a rocking chair by the window. Golden sunlight bathed them both in a warm, soft hue, accentuating Ryn's auburn hair like fire and highlighting similar, subtle streaks of russet in Amala's dark curls. Castiel still couldn't believe the miracle that both of them were in his life, and he never got tired of just watching them.

Amala let out a small mewl, face puckering up. Castiel reached two fingers out to her forehead and extended a tendril of grace to soothe her. She instantly settled, the tiny thrum of angelic fire within her tuning itself to the wavelength of his essence. Castiel marveled at it, the harmony of ice and flame.

His phone began to ring, and he hurriedly stepped away so as not to wake them. "Hello?" he answered, moving to the other side of Ryn's cabin.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said. "How are things going?"

"They're going…well," he said, albeit uncertainly. After the shocking revelation of Chuck's appearance, and assurance that they were no longer hunted by Heaven, Castiel and Ryn had brought Amala to Ryn's cabin for some rest and recuperation, while the Winchesters had returned to the bunker in order to finish getting the nursery ready.

"I…I still have no idea what I'm doing," he confessed. "I've been looking online for baby supplies, and there are so many choices. Which formula should I be getting? Should we use cloth or disposable?"

Dean chuckled. "You'll be fine, man."

Castiel huffed in exasperation; he did not share Dean's confidence in that assessment. But, he did trust that his friends, his family, would be there to help him navigate this new and exciting—and honestly terrifying—turn of life events.

"Bunker's all ready," Dean went on. "So just let us know when you want us to come get you."

Castiel glanced over his shoulder at Ryn. They'd had several days of peace and quiet here, which they had both needed after everything, but…Castiel was eager to return home.

"Thank you, Dean. We're ready whenever you are."

"Okay, we'll see you tomorrow morning, then."

"See you then." Castiel hung up.

He stiffened when he sensed one of the wards outside get triggered. There were only a handful of entities that would do that, none of them friendly.

Gripping his angel blade tightly, Castiel strode outside, only to come to an abrupt halt and gape stupidly at the person caught in one of Ryn's spells. Seeing Chuck…God…was one thing, but this…

The angel in the trap cleared his throat in obvious embarrassment. "Hey, bro. Now is this any way to greet a guest?"

"Are you real?" Castiel blurted. It couldn't be.

"Pft, of course I am." Gabriel paused, snarky expression softening. "Yeah, it's me, Cas. You mind?" He couldn't even gesture meaningfully at the glowing sigil on the tree several feet away, as this particular trap kept an angel fully immobilized. Castiel was well familiar with it, and had marked which paths to avoid when he and Ryn had first arrived.

Now he cautiously walked over to the tree with one half of the runes etched into it, and sliced his blade through the lines, disabling them. "What- what are you doing here?"

Gabriel shook out his arms. "If you mean what am I doing alive, weell, Dad brought me back to take over Heaven." He scoffed. "Like _that's_ a good idea. Personally, I'd rather be in a porn studio in Morocco. Anyway, before I get too swamped in all the pomp and circumstance, I wanted to come down and congratulate you."

Castiel narrowed his gaze in suspicion. While there hadn't been any signs of angels since Chuck had appeared, Castiel could no longer think of seeing his former family without his gut clenching in remembered fear.

"So, can I see the little squirt?" Gabriel prompted.

Castiel hesitated. "Alright," he agreed, taking a cautious step back toward the cabin. "But don't wake them."

Gabriel followed him inside, and if he noticed that Castiel was coiled tighter than a spring, the archangel didn't comment.

"Nice flowers," Gabriel did say, nodding to the elaborate vase of fiery orange lilies and carmine roses speckled with baby's breath sitting on the kitchen table.

Castiel shifted uncomfortably. "Er, yes." Crowley had sent those, along with a bottle of scotch and a note that read, _"Don't drink it all in one sitting."_

Gabriel silently went over to where Ryn was still sleeping in the rocking chair. "Aw," he crooned, reaching down to tickle Amala under the chin. She made a gurgling sound and whimper, one tiny hand pushing lose from her blanket and grasping tightly at Gabriel's pinky. He wiggled his finger, but she didn't let go.

"Oh yeah," he grinned. "She's gonna take after you."

"I hope not."

Gabriel shot him a dry look. "You don't give yourself enough credit."

Castiel watched tensely for another long moment. "Are- are we really safe?" he asked quietly. "And are the Winchesters' souls truly secured in Heaven?"

Gabriel straightened, turning to regard him seriously. "Yeah, Cas. For once, Dad actually took a side on that. And if anyone thinks about stepping out of line, they'll have to answer to me."

Castiel swallowed against a lump in his throat. "And Hannah?"

"Writing 'I'm sorry for being a psychotic bitch' ten thousand times on a chalkboard."

Castiel furrowed his brow. What…?

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Listen, Dad left a gift behind for you, before he took off again."

Castiel bristled; he wasn't sure he wanted anything from God.

"I'm not telling anyone else about it, since some of them are quite sore about everything," Gabriel went on. "Not that I can blame them; I'm still sore about being brought back with nothing but a 'hello' and 'here, you manage the spoiled brats.'"

Castiel waited for his brother to get to the point.

"But Dad gave me a cordial of extra power. Not much, but enough for me to heal your wings."

Castiel stared at him dumbly. "What?" he finally stammered.

"Someone's gonna have to teach that kid how to fly," Gabriel replied, cocking his head at the sleeping infant. "And reel her in so she doesn't go too far and try, say, flying into the sun."

"You were the one who prompted me to do that."

Gabriel shrugged offhandedly. "Neither here nor there. Anyway, we'll have to make a future appointment for me to do it, as it won't be the most pleasant experience."

Castiel…didn't know what to say. He'd long ago accepted that he would never have his wings again, never feel the rush of the ether as he spiraled through its currents, or fly so high he could touch distant galaxies. The thought of getting them back…after he'd been given so much already…how was it that he'd come to deserve all this?

On impulse, Castiel moved forward and gripped his long-lost brother in a fierce hug. "Thank you," he said earnestly.

"Shut up." Gabriel clapped him once on the back before pulling away. "I should go. Will be in touch about the other thing."

Castiel nodded gratefully as Gabriel headed for the door.

The archangel paused on the threshold and looked back. "And hey, Cas. Fatherhood looks good on you."

Castiel felt the corners of his mouth tug upward and his heart swell with warmth. He may have been completely out of his element, but all he had to do was look at his daughter, and Castiel knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he loved her with every fiber of his being.

Gabriel winked at him, and then left in a flutter of wing beats.

Ryn's brow pinched slightly as she stirred. "Cas?" she asked sleepily.

"Yes?"

She squinted up at him. "I thought I heard voices."

Castiel opened his mouth to explain about Gabriel, but decided that could come later. "Dean called and said the nursery is ready. He and Sam will pick us up tomorrow."

She smiled. "Okay." Her gaze drifted down to Amala, and she began to softly hum a tune as she lifted a hand to tenderly stroke back a curl of dark hair.

Castiel reached out with a thread of grace, adding his own music to the syzygy the three of them created—a dancing, effervescent whisper of feathers and flames.

T H E _ E N D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who followed this verse! I really appreciate your readership and reviews, and have been humbled by your support. And this isn't quite the end, as I'm going to start up a collection of one shots featuring life with them all raising little Amala. Some nice fluff to balance out all the angsty stuff I usually write (and that the show gives us). ^_^  
> Until next time!


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